My muse is mostly mute,
Her eyes closed and mouth shut.
She’s particular about when to speak;
Will brook no truck with any cheek.
The passing fancy doesn’t amuse;
Not interested in the current news.
Will never even waste a glance
When her mind’s caught in a trance.
But then her moment comes around,
Her voice clear and strong as a belltower gong.
So never ignore an elusive sage,
Diviner of truth and beauty in every age.