Guest Poem: The Wind

by Annelise Aminoff

The Wind blows.
It rustles my hair.
It blows through the trees, graceful as a ballerina.
It picks up the leaves in dives and curves.
It swoops amongst the grass in the meadow
and gently cools those in its path.

Sometimes it blows gently, talking to the trees.
While other times, it is as destructive as can be.
But no matter how strong, no matter how soft, the
wind is the wind, and forever will be.

Written by my 9-year-old daughter