BY DAN DAVIDSON
The whirlwind materialized from
nowhere,
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,
dissipating
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.
