Six end words rotate by 6 1 5 2 4 3; envoy contains all six. Sestina

The surveyor’s parcel

The surveyor unrolls a narrow map.
A boundary passes through the plum tree’s root.
He marks the southern corner with a stone.
The owner waits beside an iron gate.
A creek refuses the allotted thread.
He shades its wandering with a little ink.

At noon the heat begins to soften ink.
A beetle finds a shortcut on the map.
Its legs pull nothing from the survey thread.
The plum tree lifts a pavement with its root.
A delivery leans briefly on the gate.
The driver wipes a plum against the stone.

The child calls every fruit here a stone.
Her thumb acquires juice she calls ink.
She sticks her small artwork on the gate.
The man erases a correction from the map.
His rubber crumbles at the printed root.
A spider claims the surplus of the thread.

They measure once again with shorter thread.
The true north shifts when someone kicks the stone.
A question branches from a single root.
Whose summer fits inside this patch of ink?
The owner asks for water on the map.
The creek sends one bright leaf beneath the gate.

At dusk a neighbor opens up the gate.
She brings a needle with a length of thread.
The torn survey lies folded like a map.
She weights its curling edges with the stone.
Her stitch crosses the claim without more ink.
The needle stops where paper names a root.

Nobody tries to straighten out the root.
They leave the leaf a passage through the gate.
The surveyor caps the bottle of his ink.
He ties the parcel with the leftover thread.
The child keeps one unnumbered, rounded stone.
A damp impression widens on the map.

The map folds lightly where it meets the root.
A stone props open half the iron gate.
The thread dries blue; the creek has taken ink.