Three loud syllables open the poem, and they work like a knock at the door. Before we see anything, we hear it: BAM. BAM. BAM. Then the source appears, a pileated woodpecker whose red crest flashes out from the dead side of a maple. Behind it, the hill is lit with orange sunrise.
The speaker doesn't tell us how they feel, but the poem's attention says a lot. The sound comes first, then the sudden flash of color, as if the speaker looked up at the noise and caught the bird mid-glance. The mood is startled, bright, and alert. There's also a quiet contrast in the images. The woodpecker feeds on the dead side of the tree, yet it burns with red, and the morning around it glows orange. Life seems to be working busily inside something that has died. The poem is brief, like the moment itself, and it ends on the color of the hill rather than any conclusion.