Compass Points

North, North East.
waiting, watching
expecting. Wind
increasing

minute to minute;
sharp and clear
snow driving in.
hearing the

car door thump in
the driveway, glance
at the clock, note
it's quarter 'till

the Hour.

South. Humidity,
has always been
old. holds your
gaze and crushes

your heart. old dogs
dig up their bones; crack
open the marrrowless prize,
Bury

buried again
in the never frozen;
overripe soil but
eventually, you

look away too

To the East.
digital time
never could come to
agreement

Radio by the bed,
coffee maker pushed
back on the counter,
dashboard either...

still, you face East.
Tall clouds reflecting
every shade of gray.
from pink to blue

sunset, Warm Westerlies at your back