Its fall exposed a high and creepered
wall.
A neighbour, mourning her favourite
tree,
Quietly took photos of its yellow
sprawl.
I considered what all this meant to me.
Finally I had access to the eaves!
Could rip out tendrils that probed my
soffit,
Get to the tresses of fluttering leaves
Garnishing my roof. And yank them off
it.
Leaning a ladder on the leafy shroud,
Keen to wield my Spear & Jackson
Cutter,
I edged my way as fast as fear allowed,
Grimly, assuredly, towards the gutter.
SRP
