The Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky (What the Little Girl Said)

The Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky (What the Little Girl Said)
by Vachel Lindsay

When does the moon look like a cooky with a big bite out of it?
I wonder who eats the moon-scraps.

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