Laocoön

“Wind Farm”

there is no word for it.

for the way the world looks

when hundreds of windmills

sit on the horizon

tilling the air.

when burnt bushes

stretch

to an inferno of color

ever-burning across the brush.

just moments

moments where you stand

outside of yourself

contemplating how the world

might have looked

to a vengeful god.

—Photo and poem by Lynn Langmade © 2012 All Rights Reserved