To Charm Erato
For best results sing while strumming a lyre,
Scatter petals of roses hither and thither to inspire,
A pyre of golden arrows ignite
With a garland of myrtle. Our muse will delight!
Add a remnant of fleece and a turtledove feather,
Stroke a thrice-kissed kithara (but not in fowl weather!).
“Come now, Erato! Stand by my side.”
(Post this, she will abide.)
My muse is a night-owl who’s been pouring literary nectar into my brain during the wee hours forever. She’s a siren who can’t stand being alone at night. By 2 or 3 a.m. at the latest, I am flailing, whacking at her with my 3 pillows, screaming “No! Not tonight! No way!” until R very gently tells me he’ll make me coffee, anything, if I’ll just get the heck out of bed and WRITE! So I do, but I make my own damn coffee because dragging him into her amusement, is just not fair. And truth be told, I love the beautiful lady! Sometimes when she showers me with golden graces, I wonder if she isn’t actually the Guardian Angel of Hard Cases.
Painting: Erato, Muse and Poet-Sir Edward John Poynter, 1836-1919