By Julie

The peppermint-scented wind
Blows away my hat,
The icy cold breathes frost upon my numb ears,
As I chase along.
I leap after the hat,
But it always seems to slip away
At the edge of my fingertips,
I grab the brim,
But the wind tugs it away from my grasp,
Pulling it away like tug-of-war.
The wind lifts the hat far, far away from my reach,
It lands in a scraggly old tree, strong, but ghostly.
“Ha!” I say in triumph,
The wind tries to tear the hat away from the branches,
But the branches are scraggly and strong.
Scrambling up the scraggly branches,
I grab the hat and hold it to my head.
I notice that I’m right in front of where I was heading.
I thank the wind for leading me home,
And scurry along inside,
Ready for Christmas dinner.