by Glenda K. Fralin

Created on: April 07, 2010

Muses

I peek into a child's eyes;
see sparkling blue irises
below which set a button nose
and a lower lip stuck just past
its top mate. 

I've seen a muse.

I watch a flower

shed its petals
as its sweet fragrance
is carried on the wind.

The beauty of death
sweetens the day.
I've smelled a muse.

Morning breaks gray,
and cool drizzle
wets my cheeks
as though tears of sorrow
match the mood of the day.

I've felt a muse.

I lift a hard lifeless rock
from off the ground
and plunk it into a stream.

The fishy splash back
rains on my face
into my open mouth.

I've tasted a muse.

My eyes closed
I set on a bus stop bench
listening to the singing
of tires on the pavement,
horns, sirens, and engines
reach my ears and fill my
brain with life around me.

I've heard a muse.

And each muse gives me
a small part of my life.
A reason to ponder
Gods creation
and the space in it
that I enjoy 

I am amused.

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