Small whirling winds are our spirits that hit the plain in the heat of a summers day.
Our bodies are the chaff and dust picked up and moved along, we are dust devils.
Temporal, temporary, ephemeral, we settle back to the field, but our winds blow on.
3 comments:
Our winds blow on...
Peter your writing in its concise forms leaves me thinking for a long time afterwards.
...we settle back into the field but our winds blow on...
I'm right there with you on this.
You put a lot of thought into a few words.
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