Winds swirling
Pressures
finally got to the day
The high
The lows
Meet at the right barometric spot.

It rakes the blinds
Swirling dust
Into devils
Knocking the one on my shoulder to the ground
So I could take in
Dancing dermis dust clouds
Become ballerinas.

I left the dust there for these days
Instead of it being another chore I ignore
Listening to an entrenched shoulder demon
Blow hot air.