Dust

 

The residue of time 

Settled into the crevices of home:

Letters and autograph books,

Charms on necklaces, greeting cards

From men whose names are lost to time

Generations of these 

Spelling out for your heart

The facts of others’ lives.

It won’t be gotten rid of.

Both finite and infinite

It wills its story into your being

Reminding you 

You are part of a long story

You will come to know

In rituals that include

Honoring these treasures

And moving on with morning,

Slicing apples, toasting bread

Sitting on the back porch

Watching the birds you just fed take off

Hearing them sing to you

And to each other

Affirming the fact of being alive

Satisfied with others

Or their kind and others again

As you gaze into the universe of treetops

Listen to them sing your story.

My thanks to Sarah Marze for setting this poem to music.  It was an honor to hear her "first draft" singing of the poem at the Connecticut Poetry Society's gala today.   I look forward to Sarah's presentation of all six art songs in the fall at the University of Connecticut