The Wind is sleeping.

The forest is quiet, and the Wind is soft. There’s a hush amongst the leaves, not a single deer heard trotting by. Now, what makes a forest so quiet, yet so loud? Is it the overwhelming abundance of trees, or the river that carries many? Perhaps it is the Wind that tells the trees to quiet, and to tell the leaves to stop flying.

The Wind takes form in many ways, it’s as simple as that. The Wind uses its arms to push over the dirt and the piled leaves. The Wind uses its legs to run through fields and rustle the grass beneath its feet. And maybe it’s the Wind that gets its hair caught in the branches on the way, provoking their swinging and rustling.

Does the Wind have eyes? Well, the real question is: Why wouldn’t it? The Wind chooses its own path, and in the process it is as loud or as quiet as it dares to be. When the Wind whispers the animals smile, the trees wave back, and the river hums. When the Wind screams the animals retreat, the trees start arguing, and the river starts to run.

And when the Wind sleeps, the humans find the forest. And the Wind lets them inside, because it would be a shame not to share such beauty. For the Wind knows the power of its voice and the strength of its limbs.

The Wind is kind, it speaks to souls and sees itself in memories. The Wind carries smells in its arms and rustles hair with its fingers. The wind is wild, but it is calm.

Let the Wind sleep, so that when it awakes, it may run through a new forest and play amongst the river.