The great limb of one of the front willows had most of itself cut up by a friendly neighbor yesterday. It didn’t take him long with his chainsaw. He insisted he wanted nothing for doing it, which makes me suspicious, but maybe I’m paranoid. He wanted to carry the logs and piles to the brush pile; I told him, “Thank you, but I’ll take care of it.”
I’ve noticed since leaves started sprouting on the trees that the broken limb, which is still attached to the tree by a bit of bark, continues to live as if nothing is amiss. Looking out my window a minute ago, I saw the greenery of the fallen parts alive with bees and was inspired to write a poem. I walked outside to take the pictures and video and ended up editing the haiku to reflect the moment.
May afternoon’s gift
of cascading willow fronds —
a humming chorus of bees.
Tao Talk 