Ahhh. “I am your own way of looking at things,” says William Stafford’s muse.

 

 

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.

– William Stafford

Image credit – Rachel K Ivey