High Plains Wind

Unsplash photo via Matthieu Joannon

High Plains Wind

     (after Wind by James Arthur)

     it's true sometimes I cannot

stop myself from lifting

     the roof shingles

unleashing tumbleweeds snapping

tree branches

muddying the pool I'm nothing

     until I happen

barreling down from the North

     filling eyes with grit

     nostrils too

pelting the streets with dusty sleet

above wheatfields

    surfing the waves of grain

so full of high excitement howling

I borrow the arid topsoil

     and fling it into the ditch

arriving with news of the bindweed

     and the horseflies

at times buffeting you so violently

in ways you register

     as fists

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2018

I am blessed to live in a climate where we have day-long gentle rains that allow the oaks to tower and the corn to grow without irrigation. We are currently several inches over the average rainfall for the year, and yet in the High Dry Plains of Eastern Colorado, even an inch of our rain could save crops and livelihoods. It's desperately dry there, and the wind is unrelenting. When I read Wind by James Arthur, I knew I wanted to tell the story of a more savage and remorseless wind than his rascally wind whose antics include turning umbrellas inside out (I never owned one until I moved to the midwest), stealing hats, and embracing as light as a touch. The wind back home is downright mean-spirited and vengeful.