When we left Missouri for our new home in Maine, our 11-year-old daughter said, "I hope I never forget what it looks like when the wind blows over a field of new wheat." I have never forgotten her saying that.
Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you, but when the leaves hand trembling the wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I, but when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing by. - Rosetti. She needed an extra verse about prairie grasses.