There’s something about Santa Anas
tobogganing down western slopes
that stirs the crazies down below.
Pyromaniacs get out their matches,
serial killers eye their knives,
acorns drop from old live oaks
and shake the slim hold
some folks have on sanity.
Embers spray through orange night
like sparks of blood pulsed into air
when dagger is withdrawn,
canyons spurt with saffron flames
as siren song loops chopper beat
and men in yellow jackets
hump their smoking hoses
through the once lush hills.
Scorching highs and chilling lows
cause storms when they embrace.
Sudden gusts of wild wind
topple towering evergreens,
raising dust from forest floors
fragrant with the juice of pine
as wolves howl at a harvest moon
spinal hair on full alert.
Paula Rudnick is a former television writer and producer who has spent the past 30 years as a volunteer for nonprofit organizations.
