Floating golden specks swirl and shine in the filtered light. Each throws down a long, narrow tube of darkness toward the ground. A dust cloud kicked up and blowing across the steppes.
The thundering sound belies what would otherwise appear serene, almost timeless. The powdery billow is the peaceful remnant of a terrible force, like the shadow of the wind. Hoofed feet tear apart the earth with furious blows.
The only constant is change; from ashes to ashes. The gently rotating shroud casts a pall over the scene below, foreshadowing the inevitable return from dust to dust. Unconcerned, the animals keep kicking up clouds, blowing across the plains, guided by the imperative to be as they are.
For #MayBookPrompts day 19 “The Shadow of The Wind”
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