Knock, Knock

I was studying a frosty etching on the window sill when a flash of crimson caught my attention.  Outside in the small woods, a scarlet color stood out against the snow backdrop.

‘A Pilieated Woodpecker,’ I cried out.  The black, white and red bird, over a foot long, walked across a fallen log and then proceeded up a tall pine.  His beak struck the trunk like a hammer… crack …  crack … crack.  Stealthily, I slid the door wall open and stepped outside on the deck; my shoes melting their mark on the white wetness.  The woodpecker stopped his work, hunting insects in the bark I assume, and then ever so slightly cocked his head.  A maniacal laugh echoed through the icy, hushed afternoon.  My breath caught; the moment forever imprinted in my heart.