Spring Cleaning.

The dust that clings to everything
In winter gloom,
Gets up to dance about when spring
Lets sunshine  in the room.
And I, who sit all winter long quite blind
To how it lies around
Have fresh eyes in the spring, and find
I must dance after it.  And though no sound
Of minuet or waltz
Is heard, as motes
Go floating, still it would be false
To say there are no notes
At all.
For dust must gather somewhere at the dust ball
And so it hangs about the piano keys,
And I wipe after it and catch it, hold it tight:
Black note, white note, black note, white note, black note, white,
Playing crazy cleaning woman's  'Fur Elise'.