badsun2

A lazy day and the air is filled with the suspended dust blown in from the western desert. Fine partical dust that sifts through your eyelashes and squinted lids to fill your eyes with stinging sand. They call it a shmall (not sure how you'd go about spelling it) It means west as in the western winds that cary it in. It kicks up as fast as an explosion and just hangs in the air covering everything with a fine layer of dust. It looks like a thick fog with a brown tint.

I sit here dreaming about a night on a mountain top. overlooking the river. The wind was still and thick with the smell of frost and fallen leaves. A fine mist in the air threatening to turn into rain and the moon shone it's silvery brilliance and lit up the clouds as she tried to see through them. I felt your shivering body come to calm against my chest and belly and watched the steam of my breath curl across your neck and highlight your face on a silver cloud. Burying my face in your hair and taking in your scent and your warmth. The world was ours and the night was still and empty. And I held on tightly as though you were all that was keeping me from falling into that abyss as if time were a material that I could hold still