Round and Round

The wind mill blades go round and round
and for a time I feel compelled to watch their circling.
But then I move to other things nearby
and take in trees and flowers
and birds upon our feeders
and all the other things that might intrude.

And when I go to bed at night and think
at first my thoughts are apt to focus on one thing and whirl.
But then I move to all the other things within my head —
then suddenly I am lost in sleep.

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply