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More poems by William StaffordWilliam Stafford | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by William StaffordBooks by William Stafford

When I Met My Muse

William Stafford

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.

Added: 3 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 19 Oct 2018 7:12 AM | Viewed: 5558 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/1090/ | Viewed on 19 October 2018.
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