My mother and I sat on the porch this afternoon, and watched a windstorm roll in, a reddish tan cloud moving toward us like dust kicked up by a stampede.

The air became thick, and smelled and tasted like sand and clay.

The ice water in my glass became cloudy as we sat watching birds struggle vainly to fly, some hunkering down into the dirt, others skidding along the ground unable to find purchase.

The wind is still howling outside like an Irish banshee, blowing dust in around the door frames.

~Halcyondream~

last entry next entry