Windmill
You sideways-spinner
whirling through the air,
windblown and alone.
When you are silent,
your sails halted by stillness,
those long arms of yours stretch,
pointing star-like,
and then there you go again
creaking as the wind puffs up
circling, cutting a fine shift,
round and round, moaning
softly to the whine of the wind.
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