Terry Miller Poet Blank verse

Dust

I followed the dust particle floating across my room;
more interesting than the flickering TV it passed,
rising rapidly from the heat the screen generated,
swirling for a heartbeat, captured in some unseen vortex.

Then, moving on, collecting a few friends from unread books,
pets, lovers long departed, embarking on a journey.
A tiny crowd amasses, circling, following the grooves,
twisting, dancing to the laid-back beat of Herbie Hancock.

A Pause, before leisurely following the golden wings
of a Meadow Brown making escape toward a window,
passing a shaft of sunlight igniting a trillion specks
of shimmering dust, a microscopic murmuration;

dust, which was something once.

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Speaks Volumes February 4, 2024 at 10:07 PM Dust to Dust. I enjoyed the wee dust particles journey. It would be so nice to be able to float so freely. I envy your dust particle Terry. The last line is enlightening, to realize how important it once was. Your poems are unique Terry. That makes them very special. Best wishes from Wen Terry Miller February 6, 2024 at 8:08 AM Thank you Wen, I guess that's what you get for staring into space searching for inspiration on another poem I was trying to write.