Early October afternoon, an eerie
stillness settles over the city, a creepy edginess that

prickles your ears and feels like waiting
in the principal’s office. Even kids know

there will be wind after sunset—Santa Anas that howl
all night under an orange moon, devil

winds raging down the canyons to the coast
toppling trees, snapping power

lines, snarling traffic. Meteorologists explain
reduced relative humidity, positive ions, gust velocity,

but never mention the exhilaration swirling
in the air, the mesmerizing waves

rippling through the long grass, the desire
to follow that wild frenzy up and over the hills.