Small particles from all over the world
Covering untouched surfaces and gathering slowly
Until one day
They are swept by a curious finger
Joining to make a small length of fluff
That is soft and grainy
And made up of dust
The dust from the house
The dust from the farthest shore,
Blown in by the wind
And left as it passes through rooms and back out the window
The dust from the garden –
Bits of earth that came loose and seeds so light they fly.
Which gathers every day
And is swept away.