The March of the Downy Birch

Doesn’t matter who’s
Displacing what or
What’s replacing who—
Change won’t be pleasant
For the vanishing

And possibly not
For the triumphant
Individuals
As such. You don’t get
To succeed in life

On Earth. It’s your kind,
Your pattern, that clears
The ruined remnants
Of earlier ways,
As those ways shoved off

The ways in their way
Before them. Downy
Birch are on the march
Across the tundra,
While the permafrost

Outgasses methane,
And what froze before
It was digested
Rises into light.
You’ll haunt the next life.