The Kittitas Symphony: A Master Epic of the Gale

​I. The Arrival

​The wind in Central Washington doesn’t blow - it lunges,

a wild-eyed creature barreling down the Kittitas Valley.

The air is not a fluid here, it is a fist,

a blunt, invisible hammer that cannot be missed.

It comes not soft, nor slow, nor kind,

but screaming down the canyon’s mind.

​II. The City Bends

​Ellensburg stands there anyway, chin lifted,

coat flapping like a battle flag.

But the wind checks your pockets for loose intentions,

flinging them east toward nowhere at seventy miles of "no."

Light poles sway like drunks at closing time,

and car doors wrench free from hands

like the wind is collecting trophies.

​III. The Dust and the Dance

​Dust devils rise like summoned spirits,

a carnival of debris where the sky becomes a stage.

The dust - a million needles driven through the air -

scours the paint from cars and tangles up your hair.

Tumbleweeds outrun the eye in a frenzied waltz,

while sunflowers bow deeply, their petals like flags,

and kite strings snap in a high-wire ballet.

​IV. The Human Cost

​You learn survival tricks here: walk sideways,

lean into the madness, and call it home.

It grabs you by the ribs, demands your balance as tribute,

turning every corner into a dare.

You are just a fragile, temporary child

standing against a freight train made of invisible teeth.

​V. The Reign

​Oh, Chicago, keep your windy name!

For here the gales own the earth - they chew it too.

Because once you’ve been sandblasted into truth,

once you’ve leaned so hard you discovered

what part of you refuses to move,

the calm elsewhere feels suspicious.

​VI. The Benediction

​So clutch your possessions; the world spins and tilts,

but amidst the madness, where chaos unfolds,

Ellensburg whispers: it’s here that the bold hold.

In this windblown kingdom, you dance with delight,

for the wind doesn’t visit - it reigns.