Back at home in the Desert. I don’t think I ever noticed the wind. The Desert is not a place where the billowing kiss of the sky stands out. No, it is the silence of heat that weighs down upon you. The early mornings might provide distractions from it, a bird here or the sigh of a breeze through the palms. With the ascension of the sun this all comes to an end. The sounds of life are absorbed into the heat. The desert caters to only two senses, the eye and the skin. Waves of heat shimmer down and rise up battering you with their power. And all life bows to the heavy hammer blows of the sun.
There are rare times though when this silent world is disturbed. When lesser forces of nature find the strength to resist the sun, if for only a moment. The Wind was one such force on rare summer days or autumn nights, it could howl through the palms and stir up the dirt. The original whiriling dervish…
If anything it let a soul know, that there was more than just the Sun in the world…
