My muse is somewhere

Frolicking with Nature,

Flirting with creativity.

There are times when we walk

Among flowers and trees,

As we mindfully talk

Of the wind and the breeze

And the birds winging by.

She’s free to encroach on

My moments of rest,

Be it night or day;

She’s welcome to stay;

She’s aware I’m subdued

By her spirited sway;

She’s artfully blessed

And fancy-imbued,

Fickle at best,

Subject to moods;

She’s agile and free

While she’s around,

With inspirational gifts

Of sweet poesy.