She shakes her dust rag sky at you, this place does.
She keeps your hands busy with your own dust rag.
Dueling dust rags.
First a shake of hers, then a wipe of yours.
It rained once here.
No one dusted that day; we, instead,
Stood in our doorways, chattering on about a different
Color on the sky.
The picture above is of the town of Maricopa, thirty miles south of Phoenix. If the wind blows up from the South, the dust only gathers into a larger cloud by the time it reaches us. We usually only have these dust storms during the August monsoon season.
Other days of the year … like today … the dust stays pretty much ear level and we can easily gather it onto our cloths every morning.
Some places rain liquid. We have dust.