Tree Man

I don’t take a buzz saw up a tree, no never, I take a hand saw, it’s safer; and it’s clear, right up to the sighs of the intense, crafty-blue sky; no pressing customers, no G-men, no pressured decision making, just me and the blue sky and I’ve got all the gear, the goggles, the harness, the hard hat, the special skin-sheltering gloves; and between the scalded branches and falling bird’s-nests, I can see the chicks pass by below, on the cement-tickled street; and their high-minded heels, and delectable, swaying boughs, say high-di-high! shameful! you whisper; I know, I know.