Waiting for the Wind

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

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