The Chain Saw Poem by Gert Strydom

The chain saw screamed menacing
in the back yard where it did cut a grown oak tree
down branch by branch to the ground,
and every branch to firewood-length pieces of wood.

The smell of wood that had been cut
was sweet on the afternoon-wind.
The sun would shine hot again
into the bedroom windows of the big house
where there had only been shade.

High up to the west
towered Helderberg Mountain with its peaks
jutting into the bright blue sky
and on the other side streched the town
of Somerset West to the east
while further away laid the beaches
of the Strand and Gordon's Bay
with the ocean a sapphire blue
into the distant beyond of the horizon.

One of the grownup boys
were cutting off smaller branches
with a lengthened steel-strong clipper
while the other two were dragging on a nylon-line
that was tied to a huge branch
that was been sawn down

and later the saw roared and screamed
with a greater intensity
while it ran free and did cut piercing through the wood
which were lined up branch by branch
on a bigger trunk by the grown up boys

and it was dangerous work
with branches falling down
right next to the wall,
some coming down right next to the house
and missing it just
and that menacing wood eating machine
if handled incorrectly
could cut a limb right off.

This task of cutting that huge tree down,
then into manageable trunks,
and eventually into firewood-length pieces of wood
took the whole day
from first light, right through the morning,
through the afternoon
into the twilight that did come with the night
and there was enough firewood
to burn in the fireplace
for another six winters to come.