Click. Electricity flows. The blade spins; Its hard hard carbide Slices the air. It moves forward, Toward the waiting wood, Hungry. Bits, tiny bits of cellulose Are torn and broken By sharp steel. The blade sings its happinesse, Grinding and ringing. The wood cries out, Tearing, ripping, breaking Of fibres; the saw Claws mercilessly. Deeper it eats into the wood, Its force irresistible, Seemingly relentless. Then it is done. The blade goes back, Click; it slows, stops; The wood sighs.