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  • By Adam Sedia

Windmills (Benton County, Indiana)

The thunder departs. Its withdrawing boom

Calls to a beam of angling light

That strikes the titan towers through the gloom

And sets them glowing radiant white.

Standing in neatly regimented rows,

Spinning, spinning, spinning trine blades,

Slowly, slowly, slowly, with sweeping blows

They slice the spritzing storm-cascades.

What distant, nameless, careless forces thrust

Such alien forms against the grain

Of vast, green prairies, wide horizons touched

By wider skies no hand could rein?

Silently watching, brooding, down they stare,

Winding their monotonous rounds

Against the very nature they would spare,

Spiting it while it yet surrounds,

Away! Let me follow the fleeing storm

Far from their boundless, soulless gaze,

The crushing midst of their unnatural swarm,

The land marred by their weird arrays.

Adam Sedia (b. 1984) lives in his native Northwest Indiana, with his wife, Ivana, and their two children, and practices law as a civil and appellate litigator. In addition to the Society’s publications, his poems and prose works have appeared in The Chained Muse Review, Indiana Voice Journal, and other literary journals. He is also a composer, and his musical works may be heard on his YouTube channel.


Regina Alvarado
Regina Alvarado
Apr 06, 2022

You brought fourth beauty and pause in concrete utility objects we now take for granted.


Cindy Erlandson
Cindy Erlandson
Feb 23, 2022

Another excellent offering of yours, Adam. My favorite lines are "They slice the spritzing storm-cascades." and "The land marred by their weird arrays."


Feb 22, 2022

This is a superb poem dealing with the ugly (and possibly necessary) aspect of something that is going to supply our power needs more and more, and way into the future. I identified with it immediately because we have them here - their 'alien form' casting its 'boundless, soulless gaze' on the beautiful landscape of West Cork. On top of that, we are just emerging from three storms, so everything here is vividly real to me. I love the way triads of words like 'spinning, spinning, spinning' and 'slowly, slowly, slowly' mirror the actions of the 'trine blades' of the windmills. An outstanding poem with great power. (Excuse the pun).

Feb 26, 2022
Replying to

You mention War of the Worlds. My mind goes there also when I see windmills. I am instantly seeing flashes of Spielberg films about alien invasion. So in that context, the word 'trine' in your poem is very appropriate indeed, with its unspoken reference to other planets and planetary alignment. I liked that.

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