Up and down the street, we are at work.
We neighbors, no longer young,
balancing on ladders, awkwardly wielding
pruning poles, dodging falling limbs,
obeying the city’s order, pruning our trees.
So we did our work as parents, now past.
We complained about the rules, but followed them,
tried to do the least harm, to cut with care,
encourage vigorous growth, but keep it in bounds.
How little we knew what we were doing!
The work done, we drag the slash off the street
into our back yards, now a private matter,
to be dealt with out of sight, in our own ways.
Tomorrow, and for all the years to come,
we will wonder if we did more harm than good.
