Young Wind

“Daddy, dear, may I please go out and play?”

Kindly to her father, the Young Wind did say.

“No, no, my darling. Not today.”

Father replied to her dismay.

“Why must I sit here bored as always?”

“To comb out the wheat so that it sways.”

Young Wind did not care to comb wheat very well,

but rather comb little girls long ponytails.

And fly to warm lands, soaring mile after mile,

To pick up bright kites and make little boys smile.

And swim above oceans, pushing surfers and skis

And elaborate yachts that tickle the seas.

“Father, I said that I want to go play.”

“I told you no, sweetheart, not now. Not today.”

She pushed down the wheat just a little bit tighter.

A big, angry storm began brewing inside her.

She kicked up some dirt and some dust with a frown.

Her father, now worried, said, “Sweetheart, calm down.”

But, Young Wind didn’t quite listen. She was upset and wanted to play.

“The weathermen say that the wind should be calm. I’ll let them be right today.”

“But YOU’RE in control, and YOU say what goes. Not the pitiful humans of earth.”

“I AM in control, so calm yourself down.” Now, Young Wind was ready to burst.

“I’ll play right here, then!” she shouted at last,

bending the trees and the brush with a thrash.

She spun in a tantrum. She plucked up the wheat.

She flung a few cars that were parked on the street.

She tore off the door of Farmer Ben’s barn,

And tossed all the phone lines like thin strands of yarn.

She ran through the gardens of seventeen homes,

She trampled their flowers and kicked up their gnomes.

She threw many rocks and shattered some glass,

She pushed down the people who tried to run past.

She grew bigger and bigger with every loud cry.

Her terrible teardrops rained down from the sky.

She fell on a house and she started to kick.

She banged on the ground, and she cracked every brick.

At last, her dear father had sure seen enough.

He reached down and grabbed her and lifted her up.

And he took her away to the heavens so deep,

Where she calmed down, and breathed in, and fell sound asleep.

And over the earth, the quiet did fall

Except for the sirens and crying and all.

They certainly now had some cleaning to do,

Not to mention the part about search and rescue.

But Young Wind was sleeping, and under cloud sheet,

Realized that it WAS quite fun combing the wheat.