Small Copper

assemblage 17" x 6.5"

Muse Descendent

Paris Postcards

 

 

In the midst of this malaise,

the muse descended,

as quiet as a baby’s breath.

 

Listen;

are those falling leaves

or tiny wings.

 

The muse comes,

 not in grand gown,

but at odd hour,

with shoulder wrapped

or whispering.

 

She touches down lightly,

sprinkling golddust,

stardust, rust;

and we are waiting here,

with arms open

or eyes closed,

and still she comes,

as she is.

 

This always was;

always will be.

 

 

Michael Douglas Jones