Wait. Doldrums of summer until the right moisture temperature pressure. Then spin slowly, a dancing dandelion puff in the breeze. Then twist tightly, a leaf leaping from the branch at the wane of fall. Then whirl wildly, an eddy over rocks refusing the tide. Then surge, flurry, gyrate, envelope, encompass. Circle violently, like the ride at a two-bit fair, casting children in exhilarating motion. Creep down, an elephant trunk hanging in the putrid sky which heaves aside tons of rubble, a tantrum fit unmatched. Then panic. Alarms. Sirens. Terror. Whimpers. Prayers. Then then then abandon homes, abandon hospitals, abandon schools, cars, trucks. Abandon fear. Ebb again, silent retreat into cerulean peace. Wait. Wait. Wait.