Thursday, November 7, 2019

Dust — there’s never an end to it

by Ted Kooser
"There's never an end to dust
and dusting," my aunt would say
as her rag, like a thunderhead,
scudded across the yellow oak
of her little house. There she lived
seventy years with a ball
of compulsion closed in her fist,
and an elbow that creaked and popped
like a branch in a storm. Now dust
is her hands and dust her heart.
There's never an end to it.

Personal Postscript — I will have nothing else to say here today because I will be otherwise busy dusting and pondering the dust. 


  1. the new trilogy by Phillip Pullman is about dust...

    1. That which constitutes dust is enough to make the skin crawl ..... lots of gross stuff ....

  2. In certain longitudes, one learns not to see it. Joan Didion wrote somewhere about her Connecticut-born husband visiting her family in California. He walked around the house writing DUST with his fingertip onto most of the horizontal surfaces, and none of her family ever noticed.

    Having lived some years in Colorado, I understand the family not seeing it.

    1. Dust .... origin and destination .... its presence taunts us .....