When we first moved West from Massachusetts to Colorado, there were frequent dust storms. And even though windows and storm windows were shut, the dirt found its way inside the house.  In the Fall, the wind whipped up the tumbleweeds which bounced everywhere.


Bouncing, tumbling,
Whirling, zigzagging,
Across the windswept,
Arid earth.

These weeds
Protruding through
Cracked, parched
Hard ground with

Roots searching
For moisture.
And despairing
When rains

Remain scarce,
The loosened weeds
Now rampantly roar
Across the prairie.

Engulfed in anger,
These tumbleweeds
Rage and
Wander aimlessly.

100_1610 tumbleweeds

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