As the wind blows the sand from the shore, so must they be driven away. This is the true voice of the people

You throw the sand against the windAnd the wind blows it back again.

I am a feather for each wind that blows

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows

The sand was smooth. The damp morning fog had hardened its top layer and the heat of the day had set it so that with every footstep the surface cracked, the crunch almost audible. The heels and balls of their shoes made a path of shallow divots, but it was far easier to walk on than the usual loose and gritty beach.
In minutes, the wind worked to sweep their footprints clean and offer a flat, clear expanse all the way to the ocean where the sand became wet and sparkled invitingly with seawater.

Ill blows the wind that profits nobody