Gray and cheerless,
Loom over East Coker,
A testament to the England of yesteryear.
There was a time,
Not long ago,
When these monstrous funnels
Belched thick clouds of black smoke
Into the atmosphere,
Unleashing a torrent of burning embers
That would fall upon the town
Like a small-scale volcanic eruption.
Now they stand silent,
Sentinels over a sleepy village,
Forgotten, but not gone.
© Chester Sakamoto