The Muse
Click for meditationRegarding "The Muse"
Effortlessly
My eyes lift, drawn
Mysteriously
To a mythical, desert
Mesa, sandy-
Reddish,
Where sits
Stoically an
Indian maiden
In Pueblo dress,
Eternally watching for
Me it seems,
As if she felt
My gaze, and knew I
Was waiting yet
Again for her
To release the words
Within me born
To live.
Leo Carroll
July 17, 2018
“Find me,” comes
A quiet, whispered
Voice, female
In its sound, longing
In the depths of
A wispy, far-distant
Thesaurus…
“Find me,” and
So up the high-desert
Plain my eyes
Lift, and there on
The mesa, in
Pueblo cloth, an
Indian maiden
Sits…