A Cool Job

I move along the coast, cooling people on the beach. I give them a bit of relief on a hot summer day. They have no idea how far my travels reach, Moving miles across the states, far and away. As I continue to the east, towards a place so vast, I move through the hills and a forest of pines. I swoop down to the valleys layered with grass, Where people are working hard in the mines. As they look up to the sky enjoying the fresh air, I smile so slightly, feeling good about what I do. Then I turn southward, but I don’t know to where, Hoping to find more people that need me, too. I pick up a few rain clouds, none too small, And carry them through the plains to the Midwest. Because the farmers are unable to wait until fall, I help the clouds get there, and they’ll do the rest. I pick, up my pace and turn towards the north, Where I come to many boats sitting in the lakes. I give them a boost for whatever it’s worth, Pushing them along, creating ripples and wakes. I blow over to the coast, down the eastern shore, Where the tourists need a breeze while they shop. I continue moving south, knowing I’ve been here before. Then it’s off to cross the ocean, because I can never stop.