Inspired by seeing so many windmills in Europe–in Germany, France, and the UK–I wrote this little poem–for children, but I hope enjoyable for everyone!

Windmills

by Sophie Masson

The giants on the hill paddle in bright air,
Eddies of fine cloud flying everywhere.
A gust of wind excites them as they gather in the crop;
A sunny stillness quiets them, their arms go slow, then stop.
In humming rows they stand,
White giants across the land,
Waiting for a breeze to blow,
Waiting for a chance to show
They thresh the wind without a care,
And harvest and mill the breath of air,
To turn into heat and light,
Far away and out of sight.
In humming rows they stand,
White giants across the land,
Looking across the seas,
Waiting for the breeze.

Copyright Sophie Masson, 2015.