The Windmill’s Echo: A Testament to Persistence Through Time

Every cowboy knows the importance of gathering strength before the storm.

In dust and dawn, the windmill spins,

Its creaking voice, where time begins.

A sentinel tall, against the sky,

Whispers the tales of days gone by.

Beneath its shade, the cowboy sighs,

With leathered hands and weathered eyes.

He toils and dreams, a life he finds,

In whispered echoes that fill the winds.

The prairie stretches, vast and wide,

A canvas where his hopes abide.

Each turn of blades, a promise sworn,

Of trials faced and bridges worn.

As evening falls, the stars ignite,

The windmill stands, a beacon bright.

In silence deep, it still will thrive,

A testament, where spirits strive.