Foraging the forest during the pandemic

Each morning, when the red-crested woodpecker

calls out, again and again and again

he puffs his chest goes tchurrrrrr-charr-charr-charr

tchurrrrr-charr-charr-charr-chiiirl…..

In the debris of the forest floor

morels spring up like yachts and private jets

feeding on corporate welfare rot

Senate scattered for Wall Street handlers

In mossy rust-belt northern woods

we call them peckerheads

forage after a rain, spice and fry for breakfast

you light a fire – I’ll get a pan

5-21-20