Sixteen Pines

Sixteen pines mark my quarantine transect
this little quadrangle a world of worlds

of being and becoming
of platonic forms shaping
future dream etudes where I

spin in Fibonacci circles to see it all
and always fail

These sixteen pines a Myrmidon crew
serving petulant songbirds dashing
from light to shadow

Their songs the hymns of Ithaca
the hymns I have always known

Well, such is the aviary
these sixteen pines
a mighty dialectic

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