{poetry thursday}

Due to my Lexophile friends discussion this week (we have a Latin name AND a wordnerd queen – salve, regina!) I got into a William Stafford frame of mind. It’s been awhile, so I decided to trot out my all-time, hands-down, no-kidding favorite poem of his – on writing, anyway. There are so many favorites on everything else…

When I Met My Muse

I glanced at her and took my glasses
off—they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. “I am your own
way of looking at things,” she said. “When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation.” And I took her hand.

Tomorrow, perhaps, we’ll be back with the OFFICIAL poem of the week, but at the moment, the need to type out this one just bubbled up inside of me.

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