Winddance

There is a vast plain
It is a taunting, dangerous place.
When is blows or storms or even rains
It wears no protection for it's face.
Even when the wind will race
It rushes back into the grass
It is so savage, with savage grace,
The wind does it's dance.

Of the sun there is no trace,
The wind is a demon near the pass,
And the rocky solid base
Is what is left after the wind does it's dance.