A poem.

Inchworm Inchworm on the carpet,
you surprise me.
Pi, gold ingot! So
that's how you move forward?
Whimsical labradoodle
of a line
hopping over yourself?
Well then,
welcome home.
I fear math but
look how irrationally
beautiful your movement is,
measuring perimeters
with your own
green life.
Abe Louise Young

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