We are all made of star dust
but some of us
are less star
Star people cause ripples
in our complacency
raise our eyes
Small re-locations reveal borders
Dust thick upon the mantle
the universe converging
amidst candlesticks and glass birds
settling on the surface
of my listlessness.
The mantle piece is gathering dust,
as are other ledges,too
The strings are dusty on the harp
the soundboard’s dusty, true.
The floors could use a washing.
Windows want a spotless view,
But what I lack in house keeping
I make up in love for you.
(Someone is vacuuming and washing floors before we leave for Christmas dinner, causing stress to poodles. Hint: it isn’t me).