The Wind's Lullaby

In the daytime the wind is very naughty. It blows hats away, scatters leaves, tugs at kites and messes up your hair. Everyone says: "Ugh, this wind!"

But nobody knows that at night the wind is completely different.

When night comes, the wind slows down. It slows down a lot. As if it were walking on tiptoe. First it goes to the forest. It bends down to the fox's den; it spreads dry leaves over the fox. "Shhh," it says.

Then it goes to the bird's nest. It leaves a feather on top of the eggs. "Shhh," it says.

Then it goes to the flowers. It gently closes the petals of each one. The tulips, the daisies, the poppies. "Shhh," it says.

Then it comes down into the city. It spreads a newspaper over the street cat. It smooths the feathers of the pigeon perched on the roof. "Shhh," it says.

And at last it comes to your window. It stirs the curtain gently. It straightens your quilt a little. It brushes the hair from your forehead. And it whispers in your ear:

"Whooo... whisss... you ran today, you got tired... whooo... whisss... we'll play again tomorrow... whooo... whisss... now sleep..."

This is the wind's lullaby. It has no words, only "whoo whiss." But in every language in the world it means the same thing: "I am here, you sleep."

When you wake up in the morning the wind will be naughty again; it will blow your hat away and mess up your hair. Don't be angry with it. It was the wind that tucked you in last night.

Now listen. Is there a soft sound at the window? Whooo... whisss...

There, it has come.