February Poem 27/28
Imaginary conversation with the man in the windmill
My only skill is killing time
I got two roosters with one stone
So now i spend the morning light
Doing little more to sin than just atone
And yet you sit here in the mill
The stone-brick structure made your home
Content to fiddle and sing your fill
Aside from jackdaws, all alone
Set to serve the town behind veils
Swearing a solitary oath
Unspoken sacrifices under the sails
With only feathers marking growth
I imagine you and your flock in toe
Toe and talon, grain and sand
Would we converse? I don't quite know
If only i could shake your hand
Oblique Strategy of the day: (Organic) machinery