In situ

Our amateur tree surgery efforts are quite addictive, because it's so utterly satisfying to see the wood pile stack up and know that there will be fires this winter. We are gathering our own comfort and the exercise endorphins give the task some swift returns. We often combine the hedge forages with some coppicing for extra gratification. 

441

Mr climbs the boundary of dry wall

Steadies himself with booted feet

Planted firmly down against granite

Stones, against ungainly trunk of tree

442

Chainsaw rattles. Mr tests the elected angle

It is uncomplicatedly reachable. Serrated

Blade rotates slickly through the branch

Drops it down onto the old buckled roof

443

I drag the cut wood clear

Admire the twist of it

Solid muscular against soft

Textured fuzzes of field grass

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Tangible overhead, a block

Of solid-blue sky. The branch

Is a compact mass, is weight

Pressed against the ground

445

I trace the strain in my legs

Pushing my feet into the earth

Levering this length of beech

Out of the twists of thorn

446

From weed tangle into open field

The wood is dragged here, where

It will be portioned for the fire

Mr is distracted though, in the hedge

447

So many stray hedge branches

While Mr is in situ here he will just

Zip the saw through a few more

And I will roll them out too

448

Sawdust sprays on a chainsaw wave

Scatters over leaves and lies on dirt

Whorls of flaxy slivers of tree

Released, fly out, pattern down

449

Three more branches fall

Under the notches of sharpened

Blade. Each prize smugly heaved

From the field edge

450

Lines of heavy muscular

Streamlined monsters lie

Prone, like we have been

Hunting great beasts