Dust Devil, by Christian Wiman
Mystical hysterical amalgam of earth and wind
and mind
over and of
the much-loved
dust you go
through a field I know
by broken heart
for I have learned this art
of flourishing
vanishing
wherein to live
is to move
cohesion
illusion
wild untouchable toy
called by a boy
God’s top
in a time when time stopped.
Smuggling Grace 