Swirling dust particles shimmer as they dance,
Flashing their smiles like an early summer dawn.
I reach my hand out to play with the minerals,
But as I come near they all dart aside.
I am surrounded by it, I am confounded by it,
I am flattened by the knowing,
Showing twenty-seven years of blue iris blossom from my windows.
Doesn’t it look breathtakingly beautiful?
I cleaned up just for you,
You should not see the filth, the black garbage bags.
They rot in my basement unless I get rid of them,
They stick to my baseboards and grow roots, as well.
Nowadays, those streams don’t rapidly run elsewhere.
Instead they glimmer softly, paddling on,
Drifting inwards, swiftly falling.
Life gravitating toward life,
That is what the air echoed,
That is what the soil planted.
That is what the trees breathed.