Klondike Korner: Whirlwind


The whirlwind materialized from


as if from another dimension.

A small eddy of dust in the dirt parking lot

swiftly gathering speed and substance

until it had the form of a small tornado.

Call it a dust devil,

but it seemed to be more than that,

sucking up the dry dirt

and debris until it appeared ten feet high,

seeming to grow faster

while I approached it.

By the time it reached the edge

of the parking lot,

it looked larger than it probably was.

Spinning out onto the pavement

it continued its dervish dance,

losing contact with the ground

as it ran out of dirt to consume.

Its substance seemed to levitate

upward through the tunnel

of air and dust it had made,


as the spout retracted further,

seeming to devour itself

as it grew shorter and wider.

Suddenly it was gone,

all shape and colour hosed

out the bell of its mouth.

Surely the invisible spiral

continued on

into the upper air,

waiting to snap up some bug

or bedevil a passing bird,

creatures whose airborne senses

might detect the wind that now,

once more,

I could not see.

After 32 years teaching in rural Yukon schools, Dan Davidson retired from that profession but continues writing about life in Dawson City.

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