Sand

An excerpt from a poem by Phyllis McGinley, appropriately called:


SAND

Sand in the closets
Sand on the stair,
Desert deposits
In the parlor chair!
Sand in the halls like the halls of ocean;
Sand in the soap and the suntan lotion;
Stirred in the porridge, tossed in the greens;
Poured from the bottoms of rolled up jeans;
In the elmy street,
On the lawny acre;
Glued to the seat
Of the Studebaker:
Wrapped in the folds of the Wall Street Journal;
Damp sand, dry sand
Sand eternal.
When I shake my garments at the Lord’s command.
What will they brush from the Promised Land?

SAND