It was very windy, and I got scared

  

It made me sad one time when I told my father how much I hated the wind, and he told me how he loved it: it reminded him of his childhood, of where he was from.  He and I have very little in common.  Hair colour, I think that’s about it.

This is one of the fruits from a tree, brought down by the wind.

It caught my eye on the first morning of wind and I decided it would be mine.  But there were too many people around to judge me as a weirdo for stopping to scoople it up on that particular day.  Plus the wind was vile and I wanted to get indoors in case it carried me off to a land that most likely would not be Oz.

So for a week I checked up on it.  It blended in with the other twigs, moved about the pavement a bit, eventually onto the road and then finally into my pocket, as my beautiful twig!

Thanks wind!


Perhaps one day we can be friends