The wind

I have only read a handful of poems of the wind. And they are simply gorgeous and soothing. I wanted to try my hand at writing one.

    The wind

We hear the wind each night and day;

But see it not, nor whence it came

It leaves so softly, suddenly.

Try you might, but can not contain.

We enjoy it in the summer;

Shake and shiver in December.

It may come as a gentle breeze

Or in some sharp and stormy ways.

The wind's a mystery, we know:

Of whence it came or where it goes.

                                                            By Evelyn Creon