by BentleeSmith Falls, Ontario, Canada
Aug 2009 530 Views 6 comments
Grist to the Mill
towered sentries a hundred years old stood in silence as the troughed wheel continued it's stationary journey allowing only the stream to pass.... four seasons at a time.... occasional romance blossomed.... a squeak an grind from time to time from within as the wooden gears an steel axles pursued the wheel.... even the trout haven'd the pools the wheel kept alive . . . . as this time was grist to the mill ~
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Posted: Aug 2009
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Comments (6)
nice words, meaningful poems.
sabeel.