The Chainsaw Days of September

By Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall (Rated G)
(As mandated by the recent hurricane)

These are the chainsaw days, humid and hot
Wind-blasted shingles and wind-blasted trees
And clearing windfall in the gasping heat:
Litter to the burn-piles, firewood to the stacks

Even the bees seem tired, but the hummingbirds
Around the feeders form flittery clouds
As if they have suddenly received orders
For their long autumn flights to Mexico

But as for me, I work and sweat and stink
Pausing sometimes to watch the sky, and dream

(As Freud did not say, sometimes a chainsaw is just a chainsaw. Don’t grasp at metaphors that aren’t there; people will stare at you.)

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