Dust Storm

Dust Storm
Dust Storm (Photo credit: expom2uk)

Winds knock on our door,

Hoping to push it ajar,

Seek refuge from the dust they stirred,

Hesitant then, now so hurried,

Frantic, chased by a fearsome foe,

By their own making, a lament, a woe,

Brown tinged,  sands spin in a swirl,

From the heated hills, a horrid twirl,

The eerie cat cries, no place to hide,

From the caves, the dogs whine in fright,

Windows darkened, sound cracked,

You and me,  and hope so huddled,

We hope to wear this dusk out,

Into a long, uncertain night.

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