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

evaporate.

Oh Calliope-WHY

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.

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