by Sarah Earlene Shere, ©2024
(Jul. 26, 2024) — One night, a hunter waited in his hiding place with his sights set on a rustling in the brush across the way. At the appearance of an iridescent wing, he sprung his trap. But his attack had only injured his prey.
Leaving the frustrated hunter alone in his mutterings, the elusive muse staggered through the forest until she happened upon a cottage. Looking through the bedroom window, she was relieved to see a child sleeping there; for, you see, a weakened muse can always find either safety or strengthening within a child.
Deftly, the muse opened the window and slipped into the room as a gentle mist. Hovering over the child, she smiled. Inhaling the innocent air all around her, with an exhale, she rested herself upon the child’s brow.
In the morning, I watched the child in play and marveled at the creativity I saw dancing before me. When little Ida caught me smiling at her, she ran, leaned upon my knee and inquired about my thoughtful expression. “It’s only,” I answered, “I’m captivated by your imagination. In fact, I’m nearly jealous. When folks grow up those faculties weaken.”
Little Ida considered that dilemma for a moment with a scowl, then beamed a smile. “If you are weak, you need to exercise,” then pulling me by the hand, “Come on! Practice makes perfect.”
Thus I happily spent the rest of the day looking at the world through the eyes of faith, hope and love and dancing with the elusive muse.