Word Sketches

Sunday, January 22, 2006

The Plains Wind

I detest the wind on the plains. It covers me with dust and pollen. It takes advantage of my allergies and attacks me through my eyes, my nose, and my lungs. It throws missiles at me – leaves, tumbleweeds, seed tufts, loose paper, and other debris. It leaves me uncomfortable, feeling disheveled and dirty.

The wind on the plains is like an invisible enemy. It can surround me in a swirl, or it can blast me in my face, my back, or my side, in an all-out attack. It sometimes blows straight and strong, unrelenting. Other times, it comes in heavy gusts, often from different directions, with lighter force between the bursts. It doesn’t fight fairly! My only recourse is to hide from it; I have no means to retaliate against it.

I know the wind serves some useful purposes. It clears away air pollution, dead leaves and branches from trees, airborne insects, and human litter. But, it’s not an effective cleaner – it simply moves this trash from one place to another, like sweeping dirt under a rug. The only pleasant accomplishment it achieves is to activate the wind chimes I have hung. That’s the only way for me to gain anything from the onslaught of the wind on the plains.

Gerald McDaniel, October 2003


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