man pulls the cord on his chainsaw and watches as a gang of chickadees erupt skywards at the heavy coughs of the motor. He brings the blade to the body of a black oak, were the deep sputtering of the machine is overwhelmed by the high pitch buzz of the saw scarring wood. The noise flies through the tree tops and out over the dark peaks that shroud Lake Tahoe. The man, thick with muscles around his neck and arms, eases the saw through the oak; wood chips stick to his beard and pool at his feet. He inhales deeply through his nose, as if the smell of hot sawdust and spent gas were a panacea.
The Mitchell Paradox - Part VIII: Sanctuary
