circling streamlets, blinkered black

horses--hooves struggling out of clay

casts of muck.

crescent scythes screened silver thru

the characters of trees.

strange as the sounded line of a lark's dozenth

betrayal.

dawning.

The blueish painted butterflies
Renewed—but two—as soot cocoons.
Their tapping hues were kindly passed
To swingers (tutti) both attuned.
Too true, as dozenth roots of two
ingrained in Sound; no one immune
from the ever-known, ever-asked
Desire–Envy in the noon.