THE MOON’S THE NORTH WIND’S COOKY
(What the Little Girl Said)
The Moon’s the North Wind’s cooky.
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–
~ Vachel Lindsay