Into particulate (time passing)

Broom sweeps dust of years
Carcasses of insect
Leftovers from spiders lair,
Aged sustenance piled
A heap at the feet and I track
Particulate through my movement
No chance to capture the minutiae
As into the light of old windows
I see the time slip by.
Sun shadows grow long
And the scent of age lingers
In the cobwebs that brush my temples
And in the crevices a mouse’s meal
Nested in twigs and folded into the pan
Into the bag carelessly
They go.
I survey the hours spent
Empty boxes burned like the flames
That reach for the sky
Devouring each old bit
Floating to the sky
Black wisps charred
Rising to nestle amongst the green leaves
Then fall soundless back down
To this very ground
Becoming too,
Particulate of years
That disappear into dirt
Swirling below
These tired feet.

Photo found on Internet by: http://sheliamullican.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/sunlight1.jpg