Intriguing Creations - Poem by Ernestine Northover
Canvas sails of the windmill, secured to their whips,
Circle around on slow orbital trips.
No hurrying to speed the day’s hours away,
The winds hold them captive, they have to obey.
The blades catch the currents that travel along,
Turning continuously, powerful and strong.
Moving the mechanism of sprockets rotating,
Crushing the corn and then flour creating.
What a joy when you see one, they stand proud and tall.
A relic of times when the miller would haul
Jute sacks full of wheat, which he would then kibble,
In that dusty old place, where the mice came to nibble.
The Smock Mill, the Post Mill and the Tower Mill well knew,
The procedure of grinding the grain fine and true.
But these intriguing creations are now hard to find,
As the old time traditions are now left far behind.
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