Dust

Congregated in loops of dirt and hair
beneath the dresser, raining down
in shafts jabbed through vinyl slats

of shades that on closer inspection
are coated filmy enough to rub off
on the fingers, rolling from unpaved

roads in clouds, particles quivering
in the atmosphere to form nuclei
for condensing raindrops, gossamer

chaperone trailing tippet to comets,
absorbing and reddening starlight,
mote chanced to be born, like us.

Copyright © 2009 Ravi Shankar All rights reserved
from The Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission