Have you seen the windmills recently
Don Quixote?
They have grown,
Giants now if they ever were.
I suppose that is the way of things.
No longer just one in the fields,
Looking to pick a fight.
They have banded together. Dozens. Hundreds.
Sleek and hard-bodied.
They stand, unmoving, in rank and file
Across our wide open spaces,
Never sleeping.
Their red blinking eyes watching us
And arms that never stop swinging
Through the entire night.
How are you supposed to fight something like that?
Daniel Gilmore
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