Into the woods I go

into the woods i go, 
to be mindful.
the larger than life pileated woodpecker comes knocking
with its flaming peaked head and ravenesque body, 
a foot long like a boulevard hotdog

into the woods i go, 
to acknowledge that life is full.
the blood orange winged blackbird 
who hovers lakeside as somber 
as all the black we used to wear 
during our love of depeche mode 
and new order in the '80s
my very own woodlands creep 
with the most invasive weeds 
yet daffodil cheery
like the bed of buttercups that lies in front of Lincoln
who sits statuesque 
next to my second home of 13 years

into the woods i go, 
to find my soul. 
the clamor fills the darkness 
as it swells with 28 species of frogs
they keep my woodslands healthy and mosquito free
a lively chorus of spring peepers
like dusk's rush hour lullaby 
of jersey city's summer crickets 
in the basement of my nunda avenue home