Laughter is the wind, a fleeting warning,

whispering of the storm to come.

“You fear happiness,” they say.

No, no—

The smile is the wind, I insist,

a sign that a tempest stirs ahead.

I’ve learned to read nature’s language,

to see how laughter clears the way

for what’s waiting beyond the horizon.

So I laugh harder,

let it carve strength into my being,

so when the storm arrives,

I’ll stand unshaken,

ready to face its fury.