the turbines keep an eye
on my parents

they chant around their grave
like monks in a friary

the air so sacred
I never worry

about leaving them
in a cemetery

in spring the turbine blades
disperse airborne spores

and moss who never even
knew my parents

shields their headstone
with furry green arms

even now though whenever
there's strong wind warnings

I cannot help praying
the turbines will yield

the energy to renew
my parents to bring them back home