we had it out, inspiration & I
she got tired of my attitude
and left, taking the entire
basket of fruit with her
always nimble,
she climbed to the highest
branches before there were
even any leaves
I could see her
from the second storey window,
brooding
over apple after apple
it was quiet in the house
quiet inside my head
the sun moved, and rains came
little by little the season
ripened and grew
by the time the shade had returned, I ventured to
the base of the trunk
where, with binoculars,
I could see her feet
I called and called
but she ignored me
eventually just tossing down
a well-chewed core
for me to side-step dodge
so now, impatient with the silence,
with two hands I am
embracing the hard stem
of her refuge
with root strength I am
quivering to shake her loose,
to bring her back down to me,
humbled and lonely
penitent to the core
Recently, I had a conversation at a party with someone about “the Muse.” Mine has been missing for most of this year, and I had already written this poem as part of my frustration with her absence. You’ll find the counterpart to this – a poem I wrote after that conversation – tomorrow! Thank you for reading!
The Poetry Patio 