I like to fancy that some entities,
Some otherworldly beings buzz about
My head invisibly, riding the breeze,
Scattering the seeds from which ideas sprout.
I listen for their whispers, heed their hints
Arising in my thoughts subconsciously,
Glimpsed indirectly when my mind’s eye squints,
More overheard than heard immediately.
These fairies, sylphs, or sprites delight to use
My pen and send this evidence that they
Exist and when implored will serve as Muse
To poets who alone have naught to say.
All that I need to summon such a wraith
Is expectation, patience, and firm faith.