The wind, a wanderer, forever roams,
Its purpose is hidden in nature's grand tome.
Why does it blow, this elemental might.
In whispers and breezes, its secrets take flight.
It blows to cool the scorching day,
Chasing the sun's relentless rays.
It ripples through fields, a gentle caress,
Bringing relief to nature's duress.
To carry seeds on silent wings,
Where new life sprouts, where beauty springs.
It scatters pollen, a vital role,
Ensuring life's cycles, a crucial goal.
To cleanse the air, to clear the sky,
Dispelling clouds, letting stars comply.
The wind's breath, a celestial brush,
Paints constellations, a cosmic hush.
To tell tales of lands it's wandered through,
From mountaintops to oceans blue.
In echoes of its journey's grace,
It whispers stories from place to place.
To herald storms with thunderous might,
A dance of elements in the dead of night.
The wind declares that change is near,
Awakening awe, and sometimes fear.
So, why the wind blows, we may not entirely know,
But in its mysteries, its endless flow,
It shapes our world, from high to low,
A force of nature, both friend and foe.
