Reproduction

I.

The seeds of Birch trees
paraglide on translucent wings.

The Alder tree always roots
by the river bank, and sends
its offspring floating downstream.

Cherry trees shake their
loud and buxom wares
to entice the empty stomachs
of the birds.

A Jay carries five acorns at once.

Discharge is bountiful and continuous.

Huzzah!



Excelsior!



Go Lions!

A silent, hysterical exaltation
and the wind is thick with powder.



II.

Budding at the feet of her
in one likeness, we feed and shelter
between the toes of her.
Our singular mother.
Our grainy faces
and brittle limbs, we bend
in the wind together, twist
to watch our bodies
reflected in the groves.



Burned land is fertile.
We overspill our colony,
our mass possession,
until we reach the permafrost.
A shiver beneath the soil.
Our tangled umbilical
is sprouting again.
We tremble
whispering our first name:
Aspen, Aspen, Aspen.