The Pixy

The Pixy Start the race! Let’s run! The smart winds blow and the dry leaves soon flash as kids in a row playing at the pale sun of the autumn afternoon. Although some had been caught in a pond halfway, the gang went along, a lot looping quick as a ray. Some leaves flew, strode, others went leveling the gray ground of the swept road. The spinning guys throw handfuls of sand in my startled eyes. What a daring band! This way, I am not sure if I have really seen the artful face of a bristling pixy, dressed on green, who (the grandmas assure) travels smoking and whistling his tune as a sweet lure, at the middle of the whirlwind.