The wind used to hurry.
It rushed past everything,
certain it was late,
certain it was supposed to be somewhere else.
It took this business very seriously.
It never stopped.
No one had ever asked it to.
Then Pebble noticed the wind.
She ran after it, fast and laughing,
and did what she always does
when something is moving too seriously.
She invited it to play.
“Tag, you’re it!”
The wind stopped, startled.
It turned, looked at her,
and gave chase.
Pebble cut left.
The wind curved with her.
She turned suddenly right.
The wind adjusted.
They ran that way for a while.
Then another way.
Then back again, just because.
The wind realized something new.
It didn’t always have to push forward.
It didn’t always have to choose one direction
and stay there.
It could wander.
It could double back.
It could change its mind.
So now, when the wind shifts suddenly,
when it moves leaves one way
and then another,
it isn’t confused.
It’s playing.
It’s chasing Pebble,
or being chased by her,
depending on who is winning.
People feel it brush past them
and smile.
They say,
“Pebble must be playing tag with the wind.”
