Skip to main content

Muse

Lying asleep last night I met my muse. I almost missed her because she is fairy-quick and hides quite frequently. I grabbed her wrist, tugging on her copper corduroy blazer; she turned and looked at me. She spoke; I heard it with my mind. "I like that you're trying to write a story about me," she said. "I don't know what your story is," I said, "I only know what you look like. What do you want? Where are you going? I don't even know your name." She smiled, put her free hand on my cheek. I let go of her wrist, and just like that, she was gone.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mondays with The General: Going with What You've Got

By nature, horses are unpredictable. Even so-called "bomb proof" horses have those moments where something spooks them, and you find yourself clinging to a galloping neck down a beach, hoping your horse doesn't jump the metal barrier onto a highway (see my 10th birthday for an example). When I was a beginner, I wanted stability. I barely had any riding muscles, and I hadn't been riding long enough to know all the things that can happen when you enter into a riding relationship with a horse. As I got older, and braver, I had a lot more experience, and craved those green horses, unpredictability, and the thrill of seeing what could happen taking a novice horse over a jump that was way too big. I rode consistently through college, and never imagined it wouldn't be a focus of my life, never mind that I would take any "time off." But, adulting happens, and something I once spent every waking moment thinking about suddenly became a memory. I had a few y...
Post a Comment
Read more