The dance of the wind and dust
All we are is dust in the wind,
is an understatement here in Nebraska.
Because here, it’s the dust of
a thousand back country roads,
that keeps the landscape alive.
That same dust was kicked up
by the buffalo and horses
of the Plains Indians.
That same dust found its way
into the cabins of
the first pioneers to tread the land.
It’s the dust of those country roads
that mars and scars the old wood
of the barns, farmhouses, and road signs.
That dust paints a vivid picture
of the distant past, the present day,
and the oncoming future.
Particles of dusty DNA
are carried far on strong winds.
Those same winds once
blew winter storms away,
sent tornadoes howling
and screaming across the prairie.
Wind and dust created a wild dance,
like barroom betties kicking up their heels.
It’s the wind and the dust
that we endure out here in the sticks
Because if we can survive that,
we can survive anything.
© Copyright 2019 by Tom Frye