Gust

Picture the gust, a pocket of wind. Heat rising, cold falling, squeezing the space and forcing the air outwards into the blue expanse. It curls into itself, relishing its own caress. Pressure builds, escapes, and the gust plummets. The ground, formerly a clutter of brown and green, sharpens and focuses. It crashes spilling outward, hefting up sand, as it re-accumulates and swirls into a column of grit and air; its lofty upper portion spiraling downward into a talon that rivets the earth.