The little girl plucked a tiny flower and put it in her hair—which was, of course, when the magic began.
It was a slow kind of magic, gently tousling the tails of her shirt at first. Then it blew a fierce gale that spun her around and made her burst with joy right from her belly. Next it played against her chin until she chortled. Suddenly it darted, here and there, making a game of tag out of its sudden spurts. And when it really got going, it wrapped the girl up tight with invisible strength and flew.
All about the world was whirring in twirling wonder before her eyes.
And as the little girl laughed in all the dizzy splendor, she thought it truly amusing that such a magic could be called something as simple as wind.