Calling My Muses

By Sue Sesnon Salt

As if in a grande cathedral waiting to hear the voice of God, I sit on my balcony longing for a word, a phrase, a hint, but there is only the thrumming of hummingbirds as they swarm around feeders like bees buzzing around a hive.

Where is my muse? Come Calliope. Come Thalia. Even Melpomene with her love of tragedy is welcome as I wait for inspiration. Do they dig out from the depths harboring everything I know, or do they plant small seeds hoping they will grow and bl...