Cutting a Switch

I saw a man cut a branch
From an old, hollow tree
And give it to an audience
Of elderly women and old men
Who sat on wheelchairs baring teeth, drooling
Their waistlines dampened by an indigestible, fatty piece
They stared at the stick in silence
Until their leader shouted:
"Fetch me a larger switch!"
As the others shouted
With perverse delight
Watching the man climb
Up the rotten oak tree
To saw through the wood
In his desire to appease
He returned with a branch
Nearly as large as the tree
But the old man he presented did not speak
Nor did the watchers
Or the ones brushed with meat
It was late in the evening
And they were well fed, snoring - sound asleep