The wind

poem by Ruth Salles

Blackboard drawing by teacher Beatriz Retz.

I don't see the wind, but the wind comes.
He draws little white sheep with the foam of the sea waves.
I don't see the wind, but the wind blows on sailboats and rafts,
as he blew in the old days on the sails of the caravels.
I don't see the wind, but the wind dances.
He dances with the dry leaves that are on the ground, and they turn, turn...
I don't see the wind, but the wind sings.
He sings in the tall trees – pines, casuarinas, eucalyptus –
and they all sway and sing along with the wind.
I don't see the wind, but the wind is strong.
And undo my hair, refresh my face,
drums on the window panes.
I don't see the wind, but it plays in the garden with all the flowers.
And they make a funny little noise,
as if they were laughing with each other.
I don't see the wind, but I like it when the wind comes.

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