Categories
Poetry Uncategorized

The Four Directions

By Erin Fitz-Gerald

The nudge of the dog’s nose

lifts my eyes from the page.

It is time for the journey home.

West to the river

the whispered lapping loosens the mind’s hold.

A soft whiff draws me further within.

Along the north path

crow, duck, gull and crane serve as nobles

in the bald eagle’s court.

We join others and are still.

With a slight bow we move on.

To the east mountains blush.

Sky softens in tenderness… or is it encouragement?

 Maybe, it’s both/and.

To the south dust nestles my step

as I enter the congregation of embracing cottonwoods

backlit in gold.

I settle in for the night

having made my way home.

Advertisement