Like a leaping dancer in a hooded red mask, a splash of brilliance scrambled about the rain-striped bark of my London plane tree. Outside my kitchen window, a red headed woodpecker, in search of insects, drew my wonder, its claws securing its back-and-white winged body on its vertical walk. Then it disappeared.

Upon awakening, I never planned to experience such showmanship. The image still lingers in my imagination, evidence of Higher Power’s intrusion into my doldrums from last night’s restlessness. Occasionally, I’ve heard red headed woodpeckers drilling nearby, but never on one of my trees, and not this close: A reminder of the liveliness of on-going creation, both within and without, if I pay close attention.

Creator God arranged this synchronous instant with the red headed woodpecker, the perfect antidote to November’s mist engorging the morning air and my psyche; and with it, the miracle of fresh words to play with.

I’m grateful …