On a waning summer noon <br />weathered by a drifting consciousness <br />a dry dusty swirl rises lowly in a corner <br />and in its stride lifts everything <br />in a shimmering grace... <br /> <br />but then for none to fathom <br />it dies without a trace...<br /><br />Rince Wind<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-she-moves/
