Lesser Dragons

They call them dragons, winds such as Rashabbar the black who darkly binds the unwary, or dust spewing Calima, she who herds madness from outside-inward. Then there is Bayamo, the tree killer, Tebbard the sultry doctor, a fever-wind that dispenses fire and delusion. Chinooks and Mistrals scour and skive. The Haboob hunts where hunters hide. Those named winds; gales that chisel faces, as if they were cliffs. Squamish, Elephanta, the Williwaw, swirling thieves that steal babe, crib, wimple and shawl. I have traveled through some, and avoided most. When, in tornado season, I occasionally roam from my Ohio home, I think of those dragon-winds, and scan the sky for signs of a scaly whipping tail, or talons clawing some fluffy clouds before blowing a Dutch barn to bits.