For Sarah

An Aspen sits among firs and does not fear

Its leaves dance

the petioles turn in the wind

but the slim branches laugh-

"Do not fear," she whispers into the cool fall air, letting it rip and gust the message to

An aspen that sits among firs and does not fear.

They are one through their clonal link, but two apart to face the oncoming winter.

The missive is received along the length of her-wanted across the breadth of her;

It is absorbed into the very bark of her skin as she welcomes the sun every day each winter.

They gasp in harmony with a new gust from the East.

The wind, it runs through their leaves as they tremble together in its touch. Branches arched, quaking, shuddering through the first taste of winter.

"Do not fear," she whispers close, and she doesn't know which of them said it.