On the surface, a woman pays an arborist to trim or remove a tree and wonders whether the job was really needed. He tells her, kindly, that maybe nothing was ever going to fall. That small doubt opens something bigger. The speaker phones someone close to her and admits she feels like the tree that fell in the forest with nobody around to hear it.
The old riddle is about whether a sound exists without a listener. Here it becomes a question about loneliness: does her pain count if no one witnesses it? The reply is warm and simple. It made a sound, and you heard it, so tell me about it.
The mood begins wry and a little rueful, with the odd detail of the smiling chainsaw hat and the unanswered question of who was being saved. It softens into relief and tenderness. The last line, "I love you and I will," feels plain and sincere, as if she has finally been allowed to speak.