The Muse

May 8, 1989

I turn sunsets into sonnets, pull stars from the sky and invite the moon to share the bed with me. I see images in the clouds, silhouettes, puffy animals, and faces that smile to the wind. And while I cull fruit from the trees I remember the spring blossoms, the petals like velvet snowflakes swirling round my silent footsteps. Even wildflowers know my voice for I sing to the fields, embrace the great waves of daring color and call to the birds to carry my untamed thoughts to the heavens.