What is our world, without the wind?
Shifting and seeking.
Shallow on sails.
A gust, a whip, a turn.
Fluttering and falling.
Sour and salted.
Biting and brutal.
Churning and shaping my un-fallowed waters.
I miss thee, oh cross old friend.
I miss thine hollow call.
So I will sit upon this fetid shore.
Waiting for the wind
Shadows Above 