“Wind,” Friend, Mar. 1982, 33


Though I have been in bed for hours,

I hear the wind still blowing.

It whispers to my windowpane

just where it plans on going.

It runs upon the roof awhile

and jostles all the trees awake.

It dances through the garden then

and gives the fence a good hard shake.

It rattles at the front door

and whistles as it races

Down the street, over the bridge,

and then to far-off places.

Illustrated by Karen Sharp