The air turns grey and brown
as the wind swirls the dust around
in devils whirling without a sound
picking up speed, lifting sand from the ground
The breeze smells of moisture
as the birds start to land and cluster
among the branches and shake the dust from
their tired wings of varied colors
Only the crow defies the wind
calling, cawing again and again
in lazy circles that seemingly have no end,
waiting only for the rain before they land,
before they find their way home
People scurry with their eyes on the sky,
in a hurry to head home while still dry
it brings laughter to my eyes
for we are not made of sugar...
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