​accidentally still blue

​
three men with chainsaws 
on a hillside overlooking 
a busy highway below
drop a diseased giant
doug fir in front of my home
bending to the task
of sectioning the trunk
into rounds
like fat slices of salami

one round breaks free
crashes through brush downhill
slams into the ditch
leaps across both lanes
and rumbles on like a mad rhino
in a dust cloud of distant sage

the men stand and stare
jesus christ one says
a motorcycle whizzes past unsuspectingly
the rider’s head bowed low

then a school bus and lumbering
tandem trailer semi load of timbers

jesus the one says again
the other mops his brow
the other inhales a sigh
all three turn again
to the job at hand

there’s work to be done
knees braced feet steadied
each cut coaxed 
toward a merciful conclusion
the saw’s whine lifting through trees
the sky accidentally still blue