The Wind

We hear the wind each night and day;

But see it not, nor whence it came

It leaves so softly, suddenly.

Try you might, but can not contain.

We enjoy it in the summer;

Shake and shiver in December.

It may come as a gentle breeze

Or in some sharp and stormy ways.

The wind's a mystery, we know:

Of whence it came or where it goes.

written by Evelyn Creon