ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

WINDMILLS ... Maureen Clifford © The #ScribblyBark Poet

There is something so iconic about windmills
- to me they shout Australia every time
although other countries have them on their pastures
they don’t seem to me to be at all sublime.

Out here the clanking mill stands tall and proudly
as beneath its shadow throng the thirsty stock
who rely on its endeavours for their water
which it brings from ‘neath the earth around the clock.

And in a land like ours so dry and thirsty
where water is the lifeblood to quench thirst,
should the old mill cease to turn on outback stations
and the water troughs to dry up - all are cursed.

Yet the workings of the mill are rather simple,
which just goes to prove that often less is more.
And as long as the vanes turn driven by wind power
they will pump the precious water from the bore.

There is something so iconic about windmills
they remind me of pioneers of our land
who stood staunch, with that ANZAC spirit,
fearless and brave, willing to lend a hand.

The Southern Cross to Aussies is iconic,
it shines across our land brightly each night.
What better name to grace a towering windmill?
And to a thirsty man what better sight.

What a lovely ode to this Aussie icon, Maureen!

I adore windmills ... when I was a kid and we were on road trips out west, I loved to count the windmills.

Cheers
Shelley

Well said, Maureen. Of course, in stark contrast today stand those incredible wind farms - similar, yet so different. The old wind mills feel so warm, the wind farms so cold, the wind mills feel so familiar, the wind farms so alien, the wind mills speak of the past, the wind farms speak of the future. Yet for all that, there is something fascinating about those enormous, silent monsters.