A Muse Whispers
A Muse whispers
and the soul's pricked-up, hand cupped ear
strains hard to catch each syllable
wafting over memory's embers
scourging them to white heat.
The dull words in the crucible
melt, coalesce and run
in a stream of quicksilver moonlight
And Cat's eyes open wide on reflections
Of what amusemeant?