Death Valley Thoughts

Young spring wind in the mountain shadow loses the will to blow and moan and hum, stunned by the heat, even now, late in the evening. Stars showing, dying wind flicks tails of white sand too heavy to lift hissing across the road. Deeper in the darkening valley the wind gains will and over the tops of the dunes hurls powdery sand high in the air, a scouring curtain obscuring the dark Amargosa range with alkali sand.