Faith

Who can see the wind?

Is it tall as a tree,

Fast as a river,

Soft as the sand?

No, we do not know.

For the wind, as one cloaked in the night,

Is never seen.

But runs about,

Picking up,

Throwing around and twirling up high

and down low.

He teases us,

“You know I am here but you cannot see me!”

Do you see the wind?

No, all we see,

and all we shall ever see,

Is only the evidence of him.

As the leaves fly,

As the dust swirls,

As he tosses your hair

And kisses your cheek in passing,

Leaving you pink with a warm chill.

No, we will never see him.

But we know he is there.