The Unfinished Grave
The chainsaws roared
As the pruners in yellow dayglow vests
And orange hard hats
Ripped at the old oak
Over and over
And over.
The prince of trees was cut
Into sections and tossed into the truck,
And was driven away with a rumble
And grey exhaust.
The lonely stump remained.
Its raw, flat surface is the only memorial
Like an unspoken eulogy.
As if it says,
"I was once proud and strong.
I was not allowed to grow old,
To whither,
And return my strength to the soil.
The men
With the chainsaws, hard hats, and truck keys
Did not say sorry."
