Miles of shedding spruces,
subtle gusts swaying fragile limbs,
auburn needles dissolving into damp soil.
Hand's reaching into cobalt pick-up truck,
removing a rust-hued hand saw,
anticapating rejoice and celebration.
Knee's sinking into flaccid ground,
torso moving like a pendelum;
shards of aged bark fall to Earth.
Joyous smile across three face's,
as a 'crack' displays a fallen tree,
that will stand once more.
Merry, early, early, Christmas. As you can see, i'm already in the mood.