A woman stands outside on a warm late-spring morning, still dressed for winter in a bright red jacket and woolen cap. She is preaching, or at least the speaker hears it that way: her words come out in quick "rounds of sermons," like shots fired one after another. Around her, the parked trees are fully in leaf, and the speaker imagines them standing tall and a little stunned, as if they can't believe what they're hearing.
The speaker seems to be an observer, amused and a bit wry rather than angry. The title, "Trees make a bad choir," suggests the woman is looking for an audience and getting none. The mood is quiet, slightly comic, and a little sad. Her heavy clothes are out of step with the season, and her message is out of step with the calm morning. The trees' "disbelief" could be read as their reaction to her, or as the speaker's own mix of curiosity and distance.