I am Northwest
the moss of the tree
the damp, the dark, the direful me;
the one that only the brown owl can see…
will keep you away.
I am Southeast
the grape of the vine
the luscious, the luring, the magical kind;
the one for which all creatures do pine…
will both reel you in.
And if your compass is out of control
you may well have lost the cardinal pole
There is no need to look for direction
as I am far gone from any detection