Holding Back Nature

The buck-saw slices through the small saplings,
still green and spindly thin,

the rhythmic rasping back and forth a soft whisper

creating a small pile of shaved wood,

saw dust, gold spilled in my sawing,

moist and pungent shavings, and the sapling falls,

no cry of “timber” or crash of thrashing leaves

but a gentle sway and swoosh of green

guided down to lie on the earth I clear,

holding back nature, keeping clear the land around my house,

a home we share, nature and I, an understanding,

living together, held back, one by the other.