Tree Haircut

every time the wind howled
down Grove Street, we
all trembled in fear that
our big white maple would
crash down upon our houses.
too many flicker woodpeckers
had made their homes within
the mighty trunk; the tree
did not offer much resistance
to their steady hammering
each springtime.
we also feared that our tree
would be completely removed,
leaving an empty place in our
neighborhood, in our hearts.
the workmen arrived early
that morning and I watched
from my bedroom window
as they so carefully styled
her branches, clipping a little
grey here, a little grey there
before moving on to the
next grand old dame a little
further down the street.