by Sydney Garrett
The wind is constant,
Is strong then weak,
Pushing down trees,
Then new seedlings grow in their place,
The wind burns your face with cold,
And cools it when it is hot,
Blowing cherry blossoms in the spring,
Blowing snowflakes in the winter,
The wind is constant, still ever-changing;
He has found out the secret,
That there is a time to hold on,
And a time to let go.