Here are the first few paragraphs of BRINGING THE WIND, a tale of ancient wonder manifest in present day Mexico.

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On a gentle slope overlooking the sleepy village of Rio Vacio stood an ancient oak tree that all the locals knew as The Old Grandfather. Beneath the low branches of the grand old tree lay Miguel Alvarado. He kept his eyes closed just enough as to appear asleep and watched intently the upper reaches of leaves. He thought he could see a small movement up there and it was important that he remain very still so the wind would not know he was looking.

Yes, there—two of the leaves at the very top had trembled. Ever so slightly, but they had moved. That was a good sign. Perhaps, he thought, if I remain quite still, they will move again. If they do, I shall go into the village and tell them to stop whatever it is they are doing and begin concentrating on bringing the wind.

It had been three—no, four weeks since there had been so much as a hint of a breeze in the valley and it had stopped the instant someone noticed it. They must appear not to notice or it would not work. So, there he was, beneath the spreading branches of The Old Grandfather, concentrating with all the strength left to him after such a long period of heat, trying to bring back the wind. Not much wind, mind you; just enough of a breeze to bring respite to the poor people in the valley of Rio Vacio.

The wind, he knew without doubt, was shy and he had to be quite cautious not to let whatever breeze he brought know he was aware of its presence. If he did, it would disappear just as it had so many times before. Miguel wasn't sure how he knew all this, he just did. An instinct, perhaps?

There! Another leaf vibrated a little lower on the ancient tree. It was going to work, he was sure of it. Just a bit more concentration and—

"Hey, Miguel. What are you doing sleeping beneath The Old Grandfather? I thought you had some picking to do, my friend."
The trembling instantly stopped and all the leaves hung as limp as a thirsting old hound's tongue in the summer heat.

"By all the saints, Chuy. Look at what you have done. I almost had the wind back and now it is gone. We may never feel the breeze again if all of you do not begin to concentrate as I have told you."

"Come now, Miguel. That is an old folk tale told by charlatans and believed by fools. Uh, not that you are either one, you understand. The wind, my friend, is part of nature and we cannot control what nature wants to do, eh? Just ask my old woman who is heavy with our fifth child. She can tell you a thing or two about controlling nature."