after reading "Wind Shear" By Janice N. Harrington
Quiet fields kissed by starlight
Curious days that passed me by
Looking for some new thing or sound
Glassy bottles, once liquid, caked in
Winter’s Dark King, me forsaken?
Yearning to finally embrace the Earth again
Ashen fields scorched by sunlight
Lonely decades that drag|
Taking for granted what was owned
but not owed.