Windmill

Wind breathes upon the tall sails, Which take the weight and creak Into slow rotation, And as the breeze strengthens Gather momentum Transferring their natural power To the granite stones which grind the grain, Unseen from where I stand The rotary motion of the blades Commanding my attention, Compelled to silence By the windmill's rhythm. Some things you see With clarity But some you must imagine Working deep within our minds As cogs and ratchets spin Within the walls of this white tower To make the necessary flour.