Being Poem by barbara foster schutz
Being
There is always a corner that
harbors dust.
No need to search; it will collect
and make itself a force
to reckon with.
Not slowly does it happen.
Dust rushes
to accumulate,
materialize,
like wispy smoke that holds
itself together, apart
from common air,
insisting.
You are so right, there! Look away for just a moment and Hey Presto! dust has appeared from nowhere and your cleaning once again. Nice write-up. Sincerely Ernestine Northover
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4/23/2024 9:51:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I get the sense that you're good at developing sustained metaphors. I'm going to read some more of your poems.