in our rookie-ness, we can only guess

car after car i lift my
left hand from handlebars to do the
two-finger wave while drivers-past
respond with the same
pheasant perhaps or maybe
young wild turkey
scuttling across road
and hopping into flight
where the road flattens out on its way
to the river and perhaps the red streak
i encountered earlier was a dog but perhaps
was a fox
perched under
several bendy-over blades of grass
coming off one stalk on the greenhouse ground,
an olive-green toad-frog
with its pigeon-toed front feet
and pulsing throat
like an illustration
from a childrens book that also
features faeries
baigz in the safety orange helmet (with face and ear protection)
and chaps, chainsaw in hand
working the blade through the
just-cut limb thick enough to be a trunk
how he steps back
in surprise and to share/show
it gushing (literally, not just dripping) sap
clear liquid rushing quickly out
how this is a pause
we take
how about that for a state fair competition
trish calls out about
the trowel-throwing
in our attempt to toss a rope over
a tall big branch in the tree
(trowel tied to rope end)
in order to do our limb-cutting
(rope draped over taller branch
while also being tied to the lower branch
that is being cut and will come undone swinging)
and how i cannot help but laugh
that gutteral laugh
when i imagine someone driving by
and encountering this scene
without context
(a group of us standing around
watching and looking up into the tree
as the trowel-thrower winds up
and takes a toss
and how we take turns)
how so much of the morning
is us looking up with craned necks while baigz
handsaws and chainsaws and gets his footing and yet
there is a sense we are all needed
as one of us holds the ladder and the other two
keep a hold on the rope and another
is filling up the truckbed with fallen limbs
and we all hold our breath a little
because in our rookie-ness
we can only guess
which way the limb might fall and/or swing and
there are rooftops and
firewood sheds and windows and angry wasps
and ladders and faces and hands
to be considered

trish and i weaving
colors through with our fingers
our hands as looms
threads of greens and bark color and
safety orange
your impulse buy i say of the
snack size snickers
is in disguise i say of the
blue bag they are wrapped in
like skinning an animal mo says
about how we cut through the siberian elm bark
in order to peel it from the limbs
and then score it where we want to fold
and bind the edges to make



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s