The weather vane perched on the church
changes direction with wind’s whim.
What course to follow
as the arrow points the way?
No, this way. No, maybe that way.
The wind always shoves from behind
like dandelion fluff journeying
toward new soil to grow in.
Against, the wind always 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 mountain.
To await a calm day
where opportunity points steady
or personal decision beckons
discovery somewhere over there.