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.