Oddments

In search of story


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Disconnections: October 16.18

Morning sun

in autumn slants

reveals my dust-fest

extravagance;

my foremothers

would surely look askance

at my housekeeping

fainéance.

Matter of fact,

I think they glanced

and left this subtle

recognizance.

 

(Is this literary irony? I’m stuck in this dry, arid word desert, and dust gives me words. )