My Human Disguise.
It was said you could catch but not keep one.
A farmer once tied a male to a chair,
Which soon was kindling and the rope undone,
And, instead of a door, nothing but air.
Just one could rip apart a ten inch branch
In minutes, and ravage an entire ranch
If it was built of bug-infested logs.
Its crazed cackle once filled forests and bogs,
But today it’s feared the Ivory-billed’s extinct.
I’ve watched its cousin, the Pileated,
Hammer a limb with its head into dust
And thought, does such an addled creature think,
“I too could one day be uncreated.
There must be Ivory-billed left. There must!”