Each Day

The wind is always blowing
the wrong way now,
but I guess there's a 50/50 chance
each day,
or would it be 1 in 4?
It really depends on how many directions
you believe in, but the odds are there,
like betting on a good horse,
hoping for the sort of victory
that defeats another listless Saturday,
while an empty glass ponders my fingers
the same way I find poetry
in how a humming bird flies.