Dusty Objects

A key, a telescope, a drum,

A watch, a plate, a teacup or a knife,

Objects have lives if we look closely,

They are yours and not yours, every one.

Distant mountains fade to double blue,

The soil beneath our feet holds stardust

And starlight shows the colour of its past.

The dead moon shines through leaves and branches,

A tree crawls back into the mud

But Cezanne picks up and paints an apple,

A rose which goes astray we can recover,

A tree may grow into new beauty.

If the time has not been filled with rainbows,

A journey back reveals the need for caring,

Truth lies in dust as well as beauty,

Even beauty that we have besmirched.

©Terry Hodgson2020