Wielding The Axe

He picks up his axe, proceeds to aggressively pound away at the tree
That he had planted long ago
 Developing a Pisa-like structure                
Pauses briefly, stares out at his barley field
He sees his scarecrows being pecked by ravens, well, what was left of them from the storm, a week ago.
The sun scorches down, as he lowers himself, to fetch the axe once more.
Opens his shirt as it's ringing with sweat.
Attempts to hide from the sun from under his cowboy hat
Hoping the constant hacking removes, the torturous thoughts from his mind. 
That picture of the gravestone were he buried his child. 
He hears the screams from his wife, coming from the house, only 20 metres away.
His eyes are red with anger as he wields harder and harder, But, eventually,  the hacking will come to a shuttering end. 
And that voice is fading out, that voice is fading out...