The Wind, at Night

The wind took a gentle approach, quietly puffing breezes, stirring stray leaves and dancing with the tall grass. It lifted its fingers and pulled them over the pond reeds, feeling their wetness and their smooth, glossy surface. They plied obediently backwards, touching their tips with the mirror of the pond. The moon shone down, shining up the water with a mesmerizing light. Silver fish darted around the bottom, roused by the beautiful glow of the orb, reminding the wind of shooting stars. On it blew, eventually coming upon a roost of small songbirds. They cooed softly in their sleep, their puffed feathers a little joy for the wind to tousle.
Gazing upwards at the orb in the sky, the wind heaved a sigh, enough to make the leaves of the trees shake, making a beautiful sound, almost like the rain. The stars smiled down at the earth, almost giving it a motherly gaze. Softly, gingerly, touching the earth with their light, tickling the soil.
The wind gusted with laughter. The reeds whipped about in a frenzied dance, sending the resting crickets into darkness. The deep sleep about the wind was broken by its sudden, strong gales. The sleeping birds' eyes came open, startled by the increase of the breeze. The wind, caught up in the beauty of the world, continued its laughter, rousing the clouds, and they rushed in, covering the stars, stifling the wind's laughter. The dark grey masses blocked the star's light. The moon's glow shone through, lighting up the edges of the clouds. The wind, frightened by what it had done, quickly hushed itself, and remained as such until the scared noises of the night faded into uneasy sleep once more. Promising to itself, and to the world, that it would never scare so many things by its sudden laughter, the wind quieted and finally, rested on the bed of water, the silvern face of the mirror called a pond, and slept.
The air was still.