Don't sigh at me, Wind.
So impatient! Pushing at my clothes.
Trying to sail me down the road.
You can't force a thing any faster
than it's meant to go.
Not even you wind.
You can't hurry time!
So impatient.
You should learn something from the earth.
Grumbling, generous, gentle.
Slow to shift, only sometimes
a tremor.
Or maybe a day with water!
Crafting clay canyons through
handfuls of centuries.
Convincing rock to change, moving
the earth by gentle persuasion.

Fire.
You stay away from fire.
Fire's only good for burning.
Don't hang around him, you'll only encourage him.
All impatient-like.
He'll be up and roaring again,
Raging and burning and tearing everything apart until
he goes and burns himself up.
And then what?
Nothing.
And he knows this!
So do you.
Wind, you can't expect a forest to regrow overnight.
And that.
Well, that was a pretty big fire.
So dig down, Wind.
Find the earth and water,
rebuild your roots and grow.
Just don't go trying
to set me a'sail.