A broken up tarmac, desolate road Borders with buildings, which silently erode Tumbleweeds...
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Motion...less A flurry of metal petals moving in unison with the breeze perched atop...
No ceiling
above my head to
prevent the rain from
washing me
purifying me...
Sun beats relentlessly on to the swathes of gold,
On shimmering crests of beauty few eyes behold...
(This picture is taken by my friend Craig, wrote the poem for the picture and just redid it as I always...
Turbines, turbines, everywhere,
and not a breeze a-blowing,
bladed monsters dressed in...
