BITS OF MOVING DUST

Ancestors
of part of an agrarian past
holding baskets of now
heirloom produce–
the tomato
and smiling forever

Or in tall, dignified finery
in an ancient hall, kind of slow
and lacking in color

Or in an exhale
let into relaxed
and painless air
sans worry

And there’s us
too often with our calculators
days locked inside brains

Or better sometimes, looking
and listening

All of it, living and past–

Connected
to everything on the backdrop
of the cosmos – deeper and deeper
starry mirror

Us
clumping together
bits of moving dust
in sentient host

~ Lady