A Most Peculiar Compass

A most peculiar compass round
This morning in the snow I found,
Ordain’d as such the night before
By winds that shook the cottage door.

A maple leaf with stem engrain’d
Enough to anchor it, sustain’d
A boreal bombardment here
And blindly sketch’d a perfect sphere.

I trust the shadow reaching forth
(Invested in the truest North)
Is well aware, if not content:
Perfection was an accident.

J. B. Turnstone

J. B. Turnstone

The Last Human Lighthouse Keeper at Hamlet's Mill, via https://turnstonecreations.blogspot.com/
High Priest and Highly Reluctant Treasurer of the Alleged Order of the Nettle and the Toad, an Occult Society for Occultists Who Can't Bear to Keep Anything Occulted. Founder and Vice President, Luddite Ornithologists League (LOL). I shan't apologize for being a politically incorrect omnivore.
J. B. Turnstone