The Poetry of Michael

The buzz of chainsaws

Awaken me each morning

No need to set an alarm 

Their hum as constant

As the piles of debris 

I navigate on my way to work 

Thankful I still have a job

The streets look different 

Once familiar roads greet me

With four-way stops

Marking intersections 

Where traffic lights used to hang

Street signs absent now

Stores and shops boarded up

Closed for now, maybe forever

Work trucks passing in and out

Picking up remnants of yesterday

Carrying away bits and pieces

Of fractured lives, broken trees

The way things used to be

Handmade signs dotting the landscape

Comfort station ahead

Need trees removed? Call now

Help with insurance claims? Call today

Licensed contractor? We can help

And the buzz of chainsaws 

Their hum as constant 

As the piles of debris 

That border this strange, new world. 

© 2018 Jennifer Nelson Fenwick, #850 Strong