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About This Poem
The Windmiller's Guest
The day was warm and sweet with spring
no breeze came to tease me.
I'd wondered what my love would bring
I'd wondered. "Where could he be?"
His mill stood high upon the hill
a short ride from my home,
a picnic planned would be a thrill
but that man would not roam.
I grabbed my bonnet, left the shawl
and out the door I ran,
perhaps, he had forgotten all
no sense of time that man.
I found him on the windmill's walk
staring at the gilded sea,
clay pipe in hand he watched a flock
dazed in silent reverie.
He smiled at me and cocked his head
and said love, "Don't you agree?"
what better place to share our bread,
"Have you brought lunch for me?"
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