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.
You brought fourth beauty and pause in concrete utility objects we now take for granted.
Another excellent offering of yours, Adam. My favorite lines are "They slice the spritzing storm-cascades." and "The land marred by their weird arrays."
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).