Pining again

Cutting the pine
 
It is as if a ribcage has lost a lung.
The body and the world note an absence.
The cavity empty of song;
the sudden change in breathing.
The birds fly by, their muscle memory
shifting up, or down, didn’t I land here
yesterday? The squirrel in his endless
accounting has lodged a complaint
sitting in front of the house loudly
scolding. Beside the stump, where sawdust
and bark are scattered, the partner tree stands
awkwardly. Like a long-wed companion
who doesn’t know what to do,
with an un-held hand.

Google Earth image June 2013

 

The tree on the right is the one that was cut, I thought I took a picture, but I can't find it. Even in this picture from 2013 you can see the vines all the way up. And the giant print of the stump and vine. Vines like elephant toenails.