My skin burns with the day’s dusty heated haze
Swirling winds catch the dry dirt and hurl it
Like a desert sandstorm
Light grey and white clouds coming rolling in
Followed by their darker grey and blue hued kin
The sounds of thunder following them
Proceeding the flashing lightening
Resounding with a furious cackling
A dark natured storm’s strange laughter
All building up to the wicked water laden wind
Washing my work wearied skin
And cooling my six to six sick shift
Tortured and tired flesh