Has anyone else noticed
How the wind is in a hurry today?
I asked it where it was going
But it did not deign to say.
I even asked it politely,
When it loudly slammed the door
But it would not listen to me
It only blew some more.
It shouted in the treetops
And it yelled against the pane;
It sent the emptied garbage bin
Scooting down the lane.
It blew the wash right off the line-
The sheets were fodder for the breeze-
And one of dad’s Sunday socks
Landed in the trees.
It groaned and moaned in the attic
Till we thought a man was dying;
It wailed along the windows
Like a baby’s midnight crying.
It played all sorts of silly tricks
Like whooshing off the milkman’s hat
It blew the potted pansies south
And knocked mom’s tulips flat
Has anyone else ever tried
To tell the wind what to do?
I called it names and said it should stop
But it just said rudely, “Who me? Whooo-whoooo!”
So, I just stayed in all day
And wrote a poem about a nasty wind
The wind that tomorrow will turn around
To go racing north as fast again.