Dancing with Dust Devil

Driving my motorcycle, with Denise wrapping her arms around me, I began to unwind from the stress of doing the presentation at the university. Winding down the road, with the wind blowing in my face, I wound my way down the off ramp onto Rio Bravo Boulevard. Up ahead, across the Rio Grande, a glowing orange sunset welcomed us homeward. Tapping Denise's leg, I pointed up ahead to the desert landscape on our left. Whirling and twirling its dance, a dust devil dug up the dirt, dressing itself with dingy debris. She danced towards the East, about 100 yards to our left, as we rode our mechanical horse to the West.

Mesmerized by her dance, I called to her, “Come. Oh windy Lady of the West, venga y baile con migo. Come and dance with me.”

To my surprise and delight she accepted my invitation, and turned 90 degrees. We joined her in her dance as we rumbled across the railroad tracks. Enveloping us in her gossamer skirt, she tossed and twirled tumbleweed twigs to and fro. Tipping and twisting, she bantered us about as she twirled around and around us kicking up the hem of her desert skirt. Bidding us, adios, she kissed our cheeks with sandy lips, as she danced away, giggling like a little girl holding her hand over her mouth.

Throwing her arms up in the air, Denise yelled out, “Wow! What a wild and windy dance that was!”