Where do you come from, where are you going?
I can't see you, but I feel you blowing.
Are you God's breath, stirring the land?
Chasing clouds, with a wave of your hand?

You make our flags snap, as you pass by,
Carry litter way up into the sky.
Roll my trash can along the street,
Scatter palm fronds at my feet.

I'm glad you're just wind, from the north-east,
As storms go, you're one of the least.
So I'll choose you, over a hurricane,
Or a tropical storm with a dying name.

Or a tornado with a whirling wind,
Wild, destructive, and undisciplined!
"Thank God for small favors", I've been known to say,
So for "moderate" winds, I'll thank Him today!

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