The mailing

O look, a green storm! Look, it blows up elm -- The air is blind with seed, Alive with pelting speed Eyes closed against the rain Of fine membrane -- Ten million tiny envelopes airmailed To the world, saying, "Elm" -- The street is papered With elm-tree prophecy -- Each small transparency Holding a dream of tree. Pigeons in thousands eat them Street-cleaners sweep them, Dried in gutters, drowned in sunken sewers, Gathered up by corridors of brooms Still they persist -- A rain, a fine-sprayed mist Blowing in stinging clouds against the cheek Piled recklessly along the street, How many lost and gone? Mailing defiant message to the world: Preview of Elm: Here unfurled