Wind

Wind blows and whispers,
It growls and roars.
In places shaking top branches of trees,
Now it drops to a breeze.
Don't stare at the wind,
It doesn't like it,
It will make your eyes hurt.
Wind dives and surfaces,
Rises and falls,
It is like mountains then hills then valleys
Then hills and mountains again.
Sometimes it's a nuisance knocking things down,
But mostly it is fun,
It makes you play and run around.

Return to poetry index