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Freyja, the muse… photo by author

She Rarely Comes When She is Called….

My kitten rarely comes when she is called.

She flirts and looks at me sideways through liquid jade eyes

that brim with curiosity.

And then she darts into the dusk.

Once, she eluded me until 4:45 a.m..

She didn’t like our houseguests.

The muse is like that too.

She watches and waits….

Even in my office of turquoise and gold,

filled with rainbows of light that slant across my desk as the day grows long,

resonant with Mozart or Bach, or with birdsong trickling in from the pines outside

to inspire me —

sometimes, I can’t hear her.

But, I’ve learned to give her silence,

and space to roam,

and never to try to constrain her.

Or she, like Freyja, my kitten, will elude me.

But, when she wants to appear, she pours in with a vengeance,

riding the rainbow, singing with the birds,

brushing over my shoulders with a shiver.

She, like Freyja, disregards the time of day, or night,

sometimes appearing at 4:45 a.m..

She knows when the vessel is ready to receive her.

Life is like this too —

too much force and the excitement flees.

And the excitement — the same as what

I imagine Freyja feels when she

catches a whiff the dampness of dusk

or peers into a world of night,

full of the chitters of small creatures and

the trace of moonglow across her catnip patch —

is the spark of life.

There are rules of grammar,

and rules for kittens

and for people too….

But, sometimes, isn’t it a little fun to break the rules…

to venture out into a world you never imagined you would?

Like visualizing the view from the top of the oak tree or

the bee’s-eye view of the flower?

Or the muse’s view of me

as she rides in on a rainbow?

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Bee’s view of the flower, photo by author
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Freyja, looking at me just before she is about to dart away…

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Photographer, yogi, cat-mom, lover of travel and nature, spreading amazement for Mother Earth, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MA Yoga, MS Neuropsychology)

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