ENVIRONMENTAL Poem: Wind Turbines, by Matt Cooper

Today I was driving through Northern Oklahoma
And I was looking at the windmills—The wind turbines—
The big, tall white ones that are meant
To replace the oil refineries
In some version of the future.

And while looking at some of them
Off in the distance outside Ponca,
All I could see were the giant resurrected
Undulating hands of old Indians
Sticking up out of the ground,
Waving, turning, gesturing toward me
And the rest of us.
They were trying to get my attention, our attention
And to whisper soft:

These odd filthy things you’ve been doing here
Where we lived for a time,
Even though we’ve all been dead n’ gone so long,
We are just trying to call to you
And say
In a whither, in a gusted breath
Be careful with this good Old fertile Ocean bed my loved children.
Good night
For a while until we meet. And we will.

Author: poetryfest

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