Sitting in my car at the park.
The wind is blowing long, from the North
and the deserts there.
Through the canyons and down into LA,
Didion’s winds.
Warming as they come, compressing, and gaining menace
No smoke, no need for warnings,
this time.
I can see the wind bending the trees and brush at the park.
I can’t hear it.
Windows down, head cocked but I can’t separate the wind
From the city noise.
I can hear the crows though
Chuckling somewhere in the trees
Out of sight.
The sun is warm bending in from the South
On this Winter’s Solstice.
Winter in LA is a relief,
A deep breath held and released
With a woosh, like this wind.
entropyHed 