Air Currents Poem by Mary Champion

Ranged along the skyline,
like alien Gods descended to Earth,
the stately blades turn with majestic grace-
exuding a potent air.
Were they silent, they would be perfect.
I consider the ingenuity of the minds
and the hands that created them-
awesome in their beauty -
The triple armed giants demand my attention.
A primeval excitement wells up in my soul
to worship at the feat of power.
And yet, I do wonder…
can a god be a slave to the wind?