The Shadow of the Windmill: Silent Witness to Generations of Change

A cowboy’s trust in his horse is as deep as the canyons they ride.

Beneath the vast and endless sky,

The windmill turns, a watchful eye.

Its blades cut through the desert air,

A silent friend to dreams laid bare.

With sun-bleached bones of yesteryear,

The stories linger, whispered near.

From cattle drives to towns now still,

Each gust reveals the iron will.

In twilights glow, the shadows grow,

Of pioneers who sought to sow.

They toiled with grit, through toil and strife,

The windmill stands, a testament to life.

As seasons change and echoes fade,

New generations seek their trade.

Yet through it all, steadfast and grand,

The windmill whispers, This was your land.