Direction Whims?

The weather vane perched on the church

changes direction with wind’s whim.

What course to follow

as the arrow points –

no, this way. No, maybe that way.

The wind always shoves from behind,

like dandelion fluff journeying

toward new soil to grow in.

Or it resists progress

like salmon leaping higher against

the waterfall, to birthplace destination.

Zigzag approach,

like road switching back

upon itself to climb a mountain

for a view at the top

to return upon itself

and start over on the next ascent.

To await a calm day

where opportunity points steady

or personal decision beckons

discovery somewhere over there.