Dust, by Phyllis Kingposted by scruss at 5:22 PM on March 10 [8 favorites]
I do not know what dust is.
I do not know where it comes from.
I only know that it settles on things.
I cannot see it in the air or watch it fall.
Sometimes I¡¯m home all day
But I never see it sliding about looking for a place to rest when my back is turned.
Does it wait ¡¯til I go out?
Or does it happen in the night when I go to sleep?
Dust is not fussy about the places it chooses
Though it seems to prefer still objects.
Sometimes, out of kindness, I let it lie for weeks.
On some places it will lie forever
However, dust holds no grudges and once removed
It will always return in a friendly way.
Ah, a Scanner!
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posted by Kitteh at 1:34 PM on March 10 [17 favorites]