The End of Norfolk Giants

This flat landscape used to sing

With sighs of wind in creaking

Blades and sails, grinding grain

Or pumping water from a drain.

Windmills towered amongst the trees

Waiting for Cervantes’

Gentleman to fight.

Windmills across Norfolk were a sight

But now, in modern times, they languish,

Deteriorate and perish,

Until only their ruins remain,

Like Don Quixote’s giants – slain.


© Kim M. Russell, 2016

Sutton Mill 1