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*(This sonnet came into existence with some difficulty as I desperately sought inspiration, for this time of year is an arid one for me when it comes to creative, divine impulse from the “breath of God.”):


Where art thou, Muse? I seek inspiration!
I have endured your absence for too long:
restore to me the gift of creation
once more, that I may sing a new, gay song.
When you return I'll feel great elation,
for as my muse you can never do wrong
or cause the source of my dislocation;
when you arrive my distress won't prolong.
As afflatus returns, this disrepair
of Parnassus will lose its unsure sway,
and the decrease of my written despair
shall blossom on this particular day,
like the Flower that's both lovely and fair
as this fresh sonnet lives and has its way.

~ 09 December 2019

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