There's a big ol' full moon visible to the far right of my window above my desk, and I thought of this poem.
THE MOON'S THE NORTH WIND'S COOKIE
(what the little girl said)
The Moon's the North Wind's cookie.
He bites it day by day,
Until there's but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.
The South Wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon that...greedy
North...Wind...eats...again!
(what the little girl said)
The Moon's the North Wind's cookie.
He bites it day by day,
Until there's but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.
The South Wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon that...greedy
North...Wind...eats...again!
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