Last night I picked up a wonderful children's book and started reading it. I'd read it when I was younger, but I'd forgotten how wonderfully well written the story is...
I decided I loved this poem out of the book since my life here lately has been effected greatly by the dust of the Harmattan.
Dust and Rain
On Sunday
winds came,
bringing a red dust
like prairie fire,
hot and peppery,
searing the inside of my nose,
the whites of my eyes.
Roaring dust,
turning the day from sunlight to midnight.
Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse pg 46
After having 2 sick days this last week with ear infections I feel I should add how terrible dust is with your ears and throats... oh yes.. and our floors :( Even right after mopping, our pitiful floors begin to have footprints showing the red color our floors are painted beneath a fine layer of dust.
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