a muse sings
she arrives, unannounced
in a ticker tape rain parade.
breathtaking. mind blowing. bubbles
greet her in huddled masses.
She winks her approval
and speaks volumes,
in a sing-song voice, knowing
full well, words smear
when wet, and liquid memories
must you present your infant lovingly
when you see a glint in my eye,
only to whisk her away before I can
wrap my arms around her?
round and down she goes
round, down into the eye of the hurricane–
see foam returning to the well,
holding captive the remains of the day
and, always the loving mother,
you chase her, with a bow and a whoosh–
so proud of your clever game.
well, I don’t find it so….
a musing, in the shower.