Falling

Falling

Chug and wheeze
Chemicals in smoke
Coal to gas
Spewing puffs of
Extract in the middle
Of nowhere
For power that
Wind
could
create.

Instead and despite
The almost continuous
Whisk of brisk wind
Over the same
hills and fields
That now fill
far and wide
With falling
Particles of
Pollution,
One
Wonders
What
Fate
We
Make.

Poem and Photo by Sheri Edwards
4.7.19
North Dakota— not China

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