far from finding
wind farms an eyesore
they stay a fascination as
offshore turbines salute
a fast dimming sky
from Roan beach
carbon fibre blades rotate
as moderate winds
aid graceful clockwise
turning
row on row they stand
embracing air
as though a surgeon’s knife
sliced through sky’s heart
rip roaring red no sutures
as crimson clots appear
they spread it bleeds
it plasters heaven’s highway
reflected in evening’s dark
salty waters
skyscrape slaughter
as golden sol
slips slowly beyond
horizon’s black ribbon line
while hours pass on by
building clean energy