Finger

Finger, like so many, aims at me and then at something else. Finger is a small yet significant creature. Finger's addressing me by pointing, pointing to me, saying, saying without speaking. Finger sports a nail that may hold the significance of that creature, that digit: brown-ended with soil or brightened with soap on a bright-cleaning brush. One or the other (as they say). Finger will point up or down or way across at me, at you, at her, at him, at it. Finger may dip its eager end into cream or candy and move swiftly to eager lips, be licked, sucked on, causing eyes to brighten and smile. Finger may point a mile up the lane or down the road, up to heaven or down to hell. Ah, finger, you can be friend or foe (as they say), or something between those two with or without significance of expression. (May 2022)