Desert Dust Poem by Bill Galvin

The sun beats down on the high Nevada deserts,
As light winds stir dry dust of the long valley flatlands,
In an invisible daytime dance of thermal uplift
Played out between sloping mounts and mesas.

The highways, so straight across Great Basin floors,
May allow the eye to wander side to side
To witness the wanderings of these whirlwinds,
These dust devils, as they drift across the desert.

Most I saw were small, but one I noticed far off,
In this valley easily twenty miles across.
It seemed larger than most, but I had no perspective,
Until I drove ten miles toward it, and it persisted.
As most last only a few short minutes,
This was still growing to a few hundred feet up,
A funnel of sand, salt, and dust reaching toward a blue sky,
But without the ominous cloudy lid of a tornado;
A lone whitish swirl against a brown mountain backdrop.

The railroad runs parallel to the highway here,
And two hard-hatted track inspectors
Stood by their truck and watched the spectacle
Swirling about a half mile away.

It’s been in my sight a solid fifteen minutes
As I approach and pass it by,
Glancing back in my rear view mirrors
To see if it shows signs of dissipation.
As I climb out of the valley,
I quietly root for it to keep on going;
To set some record of sorts,
As if it were animate, a desert ballerina,
And not the short-lived, harmless wind it really was.

I drive on; alert to the next natural wonder.


6-5-2015