Nostalgia

There is a windmill by the sea
stands out for miles around
the land,the flattest that I know,
quiet,lets the wind go by
as reeds and birds complain.
There is no miller now,
no one to pray for wind,
the choking dust long gone
in vacuum cleaner-bags.
Pylon lines now grind the corn
in factories miles away.
The baker down the road
now gone,another in his place,
Stainless steel, electric clocks
bake bread in clinical perfection
sold in plastic bags.......
a quid or more a loaf.
The sea, the same as anywhere
rough at times, now gentle,
pushes hard against the shore
nearer every year,slow, near.
Innocent, knows not what it does
we watch, is all we can.
Still the wind-mill stands
working hard as ever...
Wedding guests and happy couples
park their cars in stables
where horses chewed at hay,
laughing enter, kiss the bride
and sleep where corn was ground.