grate like barefeet

on the harvest’s debris.

so i till them,


into frost heaves.

others i swirl, 

into dervishes 

on the vacant wind.


i pour their dust 

through fissures 

in the silent silo of self,

and cling 

to the Love

that lies above

the knowing of us.

in that alone

do i trust.


© M.G. Iannucci 2017

Photo: “Dust Devil” by Nikolina Petolas (click to follow the link)

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