The Four Winds (Poem)

Caught on the tide of the wind

with every force of it pushing me to the west,

wrapping its cold fingers across my bare flesh

digging its nails deeper as I struggle to break free.

Ssh, don’t make a sound

or otherwise you’ll wake it

and I‘ll never escape the deadly grasp that is the magical four winds.

”I have a plan,” I whisper to myself

as I begin to scan the sky,

but I will have to wait till the sun goes down to do it.