The Visitor

Tapping, tapping,
spooks fingers haunting,
invisible except
for the nagging sounds.

Can't be mortal,
for none can squeeze
through the door,
giving cringes
thinking some ghastly creature
wants a new home.

Tapping, tapping,
this constant knock
besets the soul with too many
flushes of fancy's incarnations,
demented and macabre,
lurking as if summoned
by a sorceress
having need for revenge.

Still, the steady thump remains,
finally seeing paranoia offending ogre,
in the tree,
snorting in wounded pride
over letting this beast beguile,
uttering one single complaint,
"stupid woodpecker!"