I had managed to book the tree surgeons on a morning when

The forecast promised not one storm but two, which seemed to condemn

The workers to a good soaking or a cancellation. Not a bit of it.

They arrive at 8-30 with their van and wood-chipper, no time to sit

And talk, but walking lightly to equip themselves with belt and rope

Clippers, hook, knife and saw, they make sure that they can cope

With any unexpected behaviour of a tree. Above all there is the steel

Tripod, each foot independently set to match the ground, giving real

Security to the high -placed human who with delicate hands and a perfect

Tree shape in the mind, prunes the branches. There is no tree hugging, like a vet

Rather, clipping the animal with a calm affection, they work for the tree’s good,

While recognising the interests of the garden’s owner, a delicate balance

One with their postures on the high tripods, and their direct glance

Meeting your eyes as you share thanks. The storm arrived at 10-30.

Why is there not in English a word that mixes labour with play?