|A drive through central Pennsylvania on Labor
Day led to my writing of this poem.
Wind turbines are a common sight in rural Pennsylvania these days,
and one often sees them emerge from behind a mountain, perched atop a
more distant ridge. Such a visual experience led me the compose the
first two lines of this poem as I drove by. I thought about the poem
throughout the rest of the day and finished it the next morning,
The wind-driven, power-generating devices
that seem to be cropping up everywhere are properly called wind
turbines, but many people think of them as windmills, even though they
have no direct involvement in milling. In any case, “windmill” was the
word that came to mind as a row of the tall devices peeked out from
behind the nearest mountain.
I never seriously considered expanding this
poem. It is a modest effort and I am willing to let it be that.