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.