Tennessee Wind Farm
1 min readJul 7, 2020
A high place of vertical beauty
Offers its dying pines
To newcomers who would
Divide this landscape
For a breathless view.
Chosen bodies whose
Limbs crash silently
Burden these pink elements
With gravesites too visible for rest.
Cool, enveloped darkness
Invites outside ingredients
To blend with
This green nakedness.
Such alien structures,
Though absorbed
And soothed by this passive
Stronghold, cannot
Leave behind the cemented cacophony
Of inferior places.
