Sweeping Corners You swept my soul clean digging into the corners with an old straw broom. splintered handle held in calloused, gentle fingers moving dust around. motes travel quickly swirling faeries in sunlight each a piece of me. “Dust Motes” by Stephen Andrews Share this: Share on X (Opens in new window) X Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Like Loading...