The Arborist’s Dilemma

In the pandemic work has been scarce

And rent is still not free

So I was ecstatic when an old hermit

Said he had yard work for me.

He showed me what once was a noble old cedar

That once proudly stood in the park

Until some young people, for whatever reason,

Stripped the old tree of its bark.

The old man had hired me to glue to the cedar

A fresh set of bark, to restore

A tree to its glory. That ends not the story

Because, yes, you guessed it… there’s more

For In the pandemic, unemployed and discouraged

I’d taken to habits of drinking,

And on that bright morning I set off to work

I was out of the habit of thinking.

With heart full of vigor and head well hungover

I glued on a bucket of bark

And though the idea at first seemed uncanny

The contrast, in hindsight, was stark!

And then the old hermit came to see progress

And laughed with a senile glee,

Saying “I meant the cedar beside the bench, boy.

“I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree!”

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