Dust In Light, Sonnet #484

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My Human Disguise.









Have you ever watched motes

Closely, drifting in sun-

Or lamplight, tiny boats,

Rudderlessly, as one,

Ever shunning the dim,

Floating within the shaft,

Bouncing back from its rim

Until caught in a draft?

In quiet air the dust

Moves slowly, rises, turns

In a secret pattern

Closer to will than must.