The Tree Fellers

Three fellows - tree fellers in my back garden
Tarzan-like,swinging upside down on strong ropes,
Nimble,muscular limbs clambering up the trunk
Of the leaning tree, threatening next door's fence.

I feel sad for the tree,older than I am,
Not to be felled majestically with cries of "TIMBER!"
Instead its proud limbs severed, tossed unceremoniously
Dismembered slowly...it looks somehow undignified.

The tree fellers balance on the outer branches
Sawing and swaying,moving backwards, moving forwards
"Don't cut the branch you're standing on, stupid."
I muse, as I peer out at them through the patio door.

Sipping at my morning cuppa,I watch entranced
As these guys soon have the tree denuded of leaves
Finally reducing it to a ghostly stump
They are not stupid - amazing how easy they make it look.

Years of growth reduced to wood-chip, pulped in no time
There is welcome light in the back bedroom now
I still feel sorry for the old tree,
But it's a willow: it'll copse and grow again.

They won't have defeated it completely
The garden's a mess but soon the tree fellers
Vacuum up the debris with meticulous precision
It all ends up tidier than before they came.

I ask to keep a few sections of the trunk.
Perhaps they can be hulled out and turned into planters
If my husband is feeling creative.
Or we can just varnish them to sit on if he isn't.

The super efficient team don't want a tea break
They complete their task and are gone
I can sunbathe now the shade is banished,
But still regret the loss of the tree.

I try to count the rings on a piece of its trunk
Which is silently and painlessly bleeding sap,
That fresh smell of timber like nothing else.
Birds gather round again, settled now the garden is still.

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