Hello, welcome to a Wonder in Poetry with Serena Blaze. The poem for today is A Thumb for Dust by Nancy Willard. It's taken from her book of poems called Carpenter of the Sun. A Thumb for Dust. I shall never learn to keep house, to make my bed, and then lie in it, to dust worthy and expensive things. The dust is myself. How shall I sweep it away? I learn to write my name on a dusty sill, and I know the tastiest dishes are flavored with mold. Today my son brought me a butterfly. His shirt smeared with the brilliant work of its wings. I scrubbed and scrubbed, but what soap can take away the stain of ourselves on earth? So lovers declare their dust shall be mingled. So the priest blesses us ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. We come from the dust of the ground. In a hundred years you can sift me in your hand, and from my dust shall rise mushrooms, destroying angels, and someday a new man. Nancy Willard was born in 1936 and died in 2017. She spent most of her adult life in addition to writing and raising her children as a professor at Vassar College in Pekipsey, New York. And the obituary in the Pekipsey journal notes that she was notorious on the Vassar campus for writing her a very old fashioned bike around the campus because she refused to learn to drive. She also seemed to have been a quaker. The obituary note that her memorial service was held at the Pekipsey Friends meeting house. She wrote many books, including books for children, two novels, and books of poetry. So I encourage you to check out her other work. Her last name is spelled W-I-L-L-A-R-D. This has been Serena Blase with a Wander in Poetry. Thank you for listening.