Wind Farm Off I-80, Central Iowa
Among deep green rows of immature soy and corn, dull white windmills cartwheel into a cloudless sky.
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And we’re caught up!
Today, Aaron and I drove home from Nebraska, which necessitates a long drive through central Iowa. I know some who complain about driving through Iowa, but I find it to be quite lovely. The wind farms are a newer addition to the scenery and one that both Aaron and I enjoy. Driving through them feels like driving through the future.
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This micropoem is part of A River of Stones International Small Stone Writing Month, hosted by Fiona and Kaspa. The goal of the project is for participants to create one small stone (a recorded moment of mindful observation) each day in July.





