The Trees Where the Monarchs Winter
by Toni Treadway

In sacred groves las mariposas
gather in such gloriosas—
three thousand miles of hard migration
by their golden navigation.

Americanos-desperados
lust for butt’ry avocados—
flesh for mixing guacamole,
a trendy dish, but not as holy

as the fir called Oyamel.
There the rafts of Monarchs swell
for winter rest in Michoacán
until the sun and compass yawn.

Quiet now, no hue or cry
for the orange butterfly.
Our faces stuffed with avocado—
the winning chips of Eldorado.




Author’s note: Avocados thrive on the same land as the trees that harbor the butterflies.

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