It was a windy day
The sun was like a spotlight
Forcing eyes closed, slit like against the rays
And the wind ripped hair free of ties and drove it into your face like whips
It was a windy day
The wind carried clouds of fine yellow girth that stung your face and settled in small drifts,
Against doors, along the crease of your lips.
It bowed all the low prickly mesquite brush low to the ground.
It moaned around the edges of sheet metal buildings,
making them vibrate with a ceaseless rumble.
It was a windy day.
The plane creaked and twisted like a beer can in a frat boy’s hands.
The wings curving and arching like they were made of rubber not steel.
It was a windy day.
The search vehicles found the wreckage
Thirty miles off course.
The wind had borne the falling craft like a dandelion puff on the breeze…
Or perhaps more like a tornado carries a screen door.
It was a windy day.
G.A. Buba
G.A. Buba 