Strong winds create an exchange of property around this area. Some of our ladders and barrels took flight last night. It looks as though we have the remains of someone’s destroyed tent wrapped around a tree. At some point, it will sort itself out. The most entertaining view was the fence across the street, where tumbleweeds from the levee area were carried and dropped by the wind.
Stacking up, they call to their brothers.
“Come join us, it’s a game!”
And in ones and twos, the others arrive,
stacking higher. Then others came
to participate and see how deep
they could nudge in, helped by the wind,
pushing together, friends with the weather,
tumbleweeds dancing, joining branches end to end.
Mid-afternoon today, the wind died down,
but it happened much too slow.
The dead bushes rest, compacted strength
with nowhere else to go.
Another day, we’ll make a stack
of damaged things to burn,
of branches, broken; plants, upheaved;
and tumbleweeds, lifeless fern.
original work by the author 11-23-10