|
My muse
called my name
from the floor of the Arboretum,
each step releasing the scent of fresh magnolia petals
that fell with the spring rain.
She came to me out of the swamp
riding the back of a female who guards her nest
at Alligator Farm.
I heard her voice while camping at Chicot Park.
It was like a baby's scream outside our tent;
a voice disguised by a bobcat.
She read my thoughts when I walked the Azalea Trail
from my back door to yours.
And what a beautiful song she sang
among the cypress knees and hanging moss.
My muse
awakened my eyes
to every prairie sunrise, each brilliant rainbow,
and each newborn calf, colt and kitten.
She showed me sparkling diamonds that wanted to cling
to spiderwebs along the wire fence in morning's mist.
She carefully placed the lacy lizard gloves
upon my kitchen windowsill.
She brought the birds to me near the pond.
She wanted me to see the cardinals dressed in boldest red...
to see him feeding his mate with seeds from mouth to mouth.
She was feeding me an exquisite love poem.
My muse
followed me into the desert.
I knew exactly when she arrived for I felt her presence
in the first spring rainstorm.
She changed the arid air from sterile, baked, and dried
to the scent of sweet raindrops,
rose petals, and cactus flowers.
She gave me haiku scenes; coyotes howling at the moon,
tumbleweeds with ribbons inscribed with my phone number,
stately saguaro standing guard at my door,
jacaranda trees with purple blooms,
and a can-can dance
performed
by saucy, hot pink bougainvillea.
But I was a fool
and slammed her fingers in the door
as if I no longer wanted to hear her voice.
Now she's gone...
and so is he with his passionate kisses,
pillow talk, and goblets of chocolate wine.
My muse
taught me to love again
and leads me to a place called Big Sky Country.
She marks every turn in the road
with glittering red rocks
she collected
from Sedona and the Grand Canyon.
She summons by gesture...
a hot cup of french pressed coffee,
a curled finger, blue eyes singing in the rain,
lilacs blooming in the yard, and
the cool silvery moon.
My muse beckons...
helping me find my way Home.
| 
