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
North . . . Wind . . . eats . . . again!

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Vachel Lindsay

Nicholas Vachel Lindsay was an American poet. more…

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"The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky by Vachel Lindsay" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2018. Web. 17 Dec. 2018. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/37384>.

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