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.
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