I guess she just got tired
of holding up all those tributaries
of her sap flow
for the clouds to see
finally gave up and let go
to hell with it, she said.
I’m taking a dive.

When I looked outside
and saw a backyard sprouting limbs
at odd angles that had not been there minutes before
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Had I suddenly fallen asleep
on my way from the kitchen to the bathroom
a nightmare funneling down
like mosquitoes looking for a bare arm?

For three days that limb
six inches old at its base
lay in the yard her leaves slowly fading
loosing their luster
becoming brittle
old parchment now unwritten
by aerobatic gods
the Dryads off to green isles
and their turquoise Aegean heaven.

I could no longer bear watching
those leaves fade into necrosis
before my eyes
even though cardinals and jays
were enjoying the new perch
waiting for the Doppler shift
in the squirrel
on the birdfeeder.

It was so easy entering the coolness of Sears
listening to the old sales clerk’s stories
as he cached one more chainsaw.
But today my muscles
ache with pride
as I peer into summer.

08/11/2009

Author's Note: Dryads are tree nymphs in Greek mythology. Photo of pile of limbs after a day's work with the new chainsaw. Not bad for an old man, huh?

Posted on 08/11/2009
Copyright © 2025 Glenn Currier