To See the Beauty

 

 

To see the beauty

in a row of planted pines

we are so blind

 

glancing accidentally

into the rear-view mirror

of a vehicular movie

 

reminding of the symmetry

of measured lines, parallel

space, vertical posts

holding boughs of clouds

 

long pines to gaze along

linear beauty in a row

of lines, when

I turn to the slanting sun

 

a swan spreading

downy feathers down

to light my path out

of a labyrinth of fallen

needles

 

where the beauty in a hundred

rows cannot be grasped

for a minute or an hour

 

I gaze across a day until the sun bends

it's mighty line into a softer circle

to wrap a thousand planted pines

with a golden bow called late afternoon.