Dance of the Muse

Shriveling flowers retaining beauty
despite the dark-reality-tinged petals
True to the conscientious poet’s duty,
meaning is soon ascribed, and the mind settles.

Mockingly another glimpse brings wonder-
revelation of a leaf lost, lying lonely,
turning the philosophical mind asunder.
Perhaps it demands more than one meaning only.

And when the artistic soul sits to write,
the muse is a spiteful, flittering fairy.
Behind grocery lists and bills, it takes flight.
To the urge to create, the mind made quite contrary.

The poet surrenders and retires to slumber
Head hits pillow, the fairy emerges
bringing visions and ideas of great number.