sawn ovenbird They dragged the tree to the backyard some time in January. It had been there ever since. Not a single pine needle left, just the cancer riddled spine of a thing that once shone in the darkness of December, bedecked and bedazzled and now bedraggled and woebegone, its branches brittle fingers, its trunk amputated above the knee. Every day she saw it there, lying on the patch of dirt that had given up trying to be a lawn. For six months she saw it. Until she couldn’t stand to see it another day. She ordered a saw on Amazon. She cut the festive corpse to pieces and put them out on compost day. They might have left it until the end of time. And she’ll have a saw now. It’s always good to have a saw. 260607 what's it to you? who go blather from