Not Having a Compass

Isn't it all about finding our way, about whether to choose the high road or the low road, about gleaning from our wanderings the gist of our lives, about setting by these truths our own fragile compasses and then trusting them to point? The poems in this collection reflect journeys, through travel, aging and insight---on main roads, back roads, up hills and down. Often unsure about direction, I forged ahead, winged my way with only a poem and a prayer. Detours and deadends ordered my priorities and helped me set my own boundaries so that when I did finally calibrate my inner compass, it was with more than bearings. I learned to look to the North Star, that road signs can deceive as well as direct, that some final destinations were only layovers, and I learned that each mile along the way embraces a muse of its own.