If that would wake my muse and start the flow
once more to roll new words onto the page,
then I would surely find a place to go
to feel as free as crows outside of cage.
But no! There’s not a place, where snow is deep.
No way to wake my muse although I try.
He snuggles tighter for long winter’s sleep.
It is my wish that no one hears me cry.
And so, downcast, I pull on cozy cap.
lean back into my chair and start to nap.
c Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols