Not all writers are poets and not all poets are writers. That is not to say that a writer can’t write poetry or a poet can’t write writing, just that some cannot. But whether a writer or poet be, we are the purveyors of the written and rhymed word. As such it is our responsibility, nay our duty to those who read, to write things so that they may do so. Thus on occasion, when a thought is prevalent, when an idea is profound or when some random crap spontaneously evolves and sticks in our brain, like a dagger covered in super glue through the heart, it is our sworn and sovereign duty to write it down.
It sounds like the heavens are ripped asunder, by the rumbling sound of approaching thunder. Gaze into the darkness, eyes wide with wonder. A storm’s a rollin’ in. Electric current fills the air, rippling through one’s body hair. Goose-bumps prickle in your underwear. A storms a rollin’ in. Blinded by a flash of lightening, turn away it is quite frightening. Heart beat racing, senses heightening. A storms a rollin’ in. Darkness falls across the land, the midnight hour close at hand. Vincent Price – you was da man! A storms a rollin’ in.
Rain drops fall steadily one by one, it seems precipitation has begun. For shelter all of gods’ creatures run. A storm’s a rollin’ in. Nature’s symphony is proceeding, with cymbals crash, drums a beating and that phrase we’ve been repeating – “A storm’s a rollin’ in.” The back beat driving sound of rain, as it pounds against the window pane, with gale force winds of a hurricane. A storm’s a rollin’ in. Lines are waving, blinking power. Honey best get out the shower. Stay dirty for another hour. A storm’s a rollin’ in. Check the children safely sleeping, as the dark clouds continue creeping. Thunder CRACK!!! and now they’re weeping. A storm’s a rollin’ in. Violent winds, swaying trees, it can bring a man to his knees. Don’t let them fall I beg you please. A storm’s a rollin’ in.
And here within the House o’Saw, aweing at the wonder of it all. There’s fear that those swaying might just fall. A storm’s a rollin’ in. For sitting along the property line, is a row of majestic, aging pine. With a destructive potential one can’t define. A storm’s a rollin’ in. Heavy rains could the roots dislodge and with the wind send down a sap filled barrage, which would crush the carport and garage. A storm’s a rollin’ in. And though I hate to keep on bitchin’, that one on the right could take out the kitchen and that just sets my eye to twitchin’. A storm’s a rollin’ in.
So how does one save a manmade construction from nature’s natural wanton destruction? You’d have to nip the problem at its junction. A storm’s a rollin’ in. The only way to stop a tree after all is to bring it down before it can fall. For such a thing who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!!! Ghostbusters? No, no, no, that would only be effective if it were ghost trees. Not sure if ghost trees could do any actual damage if they fell. Wonder what the insurance company’s policy is on spectral landscaping accident claims? More on haunted lawn and gardens later for now let’s put in a call to Derick Sexton of Father & Sons Tree Service!
Apparently one of our 60+ foot monster pines decided it would slowly lean over and sneak its way into our home…through the roof. Once again we made the call and Derick came out with a full crew to help resolve our problem without delay. He assessed the situation, gave us an extremely low appraisal for his services, we shook on it and then he went to work. In less than a day he safely removed not one but two of those pesky pines, with as little collateral damage as possible cleaning up the aftermath along the way.
OK, quit scratching your heads and lower your tone of sarcastic inquiry as to why a guy everybody calls “Chainsaw” needs to hire another guy with a chainsaw to cut down trees. As we stated earlier, just because you’re a poet doesn’t mean you can write and just because you’re a writer doesn’t mean you can write poetry. Likewise, just because you own a chainsaw doesn’t mean you cut down trees and OMG I just realized how absolutely ridiculously stupid that sounds. Let’s try this from another angle.
There is no denying this writer has an affinity for the most destructive and horror film related pieces of lawn and garden equipment ever conceived. In addition there is a collection of antiquated and retired saws within my residence. And yes many of them have been used by myself to cut wood. However, the title of “Chainsaw” has nothing to do with any of these things. Consider it as an ironic metaphorical conundrum if you have the mental capacity to do so. It shouldn’t be too hard considering we no longer live in the era where a person’s name is also their occupation.
So now we come down to the end and we’ll finish this like we began. The House o’ Saw sits safe and sound, the wooden giants brought to the ground. Thanks to the Father & Sons crew, we appreciate the work you do. There’s more to cut, so stay in touch but for now we won’t have to worry quite so much. When a storm’s a rollin’ in.
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Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused. See ya!