THE OLD MILL
The old mill stands alone on a hillock,
tattered blades turning spasmodically
with every gust of wind.
With nought to do, it remains calm,
perhaps awaiting a Don Quixote to enliven its existence.
Useless, unwanted, ragged and forlorn,
the old mill lingers on in hopes of a serene death.
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Somehow it seems more hopeful than the last two lines suggest; if the mill calmly awaits its own Don Q, then perhaps there is still juice in the old structure...ready for some interesting little drama.
Be always safe,
Karen