On a windy hilltop stood a small bakery, run by a kind baker named Omar who made the softest bread in the land. Every morning the smell of his baking drifted out the door and down the hill, and every morning the wind came rushing up to breathe it in. The wind was always hungry, and the warm smell of bread was the loveliest thing it knew.
But a smell is not a supper, and the poor wind could only sniff and sigh and rush on, never tasting, always longing.
Most people shooed the wind away, for it rattled their shutters and stole their hats. But Omar felt sorry for it. One cold morning, he set a small warm loaf on his windowsill and said, "This one is for you, Wind. I know you're hungry." The wind swirled down in surprise, wrapped itself around the little loaf, and carried it gently up into the sky to eat among the clouds.
For the first time in its long life, the hungry wind was full. And it did not forget the kindness.
From that day on, the wind became Omar's friend. When his fire burned too low, the wind would breathe softly on the coals to keep it glowing. When rain threatened his flour, the wind would push the clouds away. On baking days it carried the smell of his bread further than ever — over hills and rivers, all the way to distant towns — so that travelers followed their noses to his door.
Soon Omar's little bakery was the busiest in the whole region, all thanks to a friend made of moving air.
Then came a winter so harsh that the roads froze and no customers could climb the hill. Omar's flour ran low, and his coins ran lower, and he feared his little bakery would not survive. He still set a loaf out for the wind each morning, though he had little for himself.
The wind saw his kindness, and his worry, and decided it was time to repay him in full.
That night the wind flew to every town it had ever carried Omar's smell, and whispered at every window: "On the hill there is a baker who shared his bread with the wind. Go to him. He needs you now." And in the morning, despite the cold, a long line of people came climbing up the hill — friends old and new, bringing flour and firewood and warm wishes, eager to help the kind baker who had been so generous to a hungry wind.
"Feed the hungry, even the wind," Omar would say, "and you will never go hungry yourself."
And the bakery on the windy hill stayed warm and busy and full of friends for all the rest of Omar's days.