Desert Rage

The dust that swirls through the wind frightens the sun. I can hear the poor defenseless leaves call out in pain to me as they are torn from the branches. I take in the sky along the horizon, black with menacing, angry clouds. All I can do is cringe at the roar of Mother Nature, wince at the shivering windows. Mother says that the storms never last long—now all I can do is hide and wait for the brilliant sun to return. Soon the rage will dissipate between the elements and the turquoise sky will come through in the end. After all, Mother and Dad say it will be better, so I am brave. I am caught it the wrath of the desert.