The muse won't be summoned. She alights when it damn well pleases her.
Erica Jong
Sometimes as evening's hours give way to midnight's embrace, and the light of the waning full moon falls across the gentle billows of curtains, you hear the soft whisperings of your emotions muse...
dragonfly flights of love
dance across my heart's surface,
they settle on you.
Tonight I'm grateful for my muse's visitations. May it be so for all who seek to create.
Happy Labor Day.
Michael Franks, "Dragonfly Summer":
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