Poetry by Jeff Green


The windmill

by cricketjeff on September 27, 2007.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

The sails turn against the sky
The clouds go past and catch the eye
The wind blows through and wonders why
The windmill

It may be hot it may be cold
The windmill’s sails are getting old
But still they stand out dark and bold
The windmill

I’ve seen the sight one thousand times
It’s been written in one thousand rhymes
Seen from where the church bell chimes
The windmill

The farmers bring their sacks of wheat
Their carts arriving from the street
The flour is packed in bags so neat
The windmill

And while I’m sleeping in my bed
The flour is baked to loaves of bread
To keep the hungry people fed
The windmill

And so it goes for years and years
The times of joy and times of tears
It sees out hopes it sees out fears
The windmill

A breath of wind is all it needs
For this simple tool to do its deeds
And so the mighty nation feeds
The windmill

When we are dead and buried deep
Our widows far too old to weep
When it’s our grandsons laid asleep
The windmill

Time stands still as sails turn
The miller still has flour to earn
He grinds until the final kirn
The windmill