MUSING

            
            Our little dog’s nudged in beside my hip
            As I sit in my easy chair and sip
            A steaming cup of café latte brew
            While hoping for the Muse news to come through.

            Lapboard and pad await my pen’s first stroke
            While I consider rhyming words to stoke
            Imagination’s fires till I divine
            The right route to proceed in every line.

            Now she’s hopped down, and I’m left on my own
            To fathom what’s still in the twilight zone,
            Imagination’s stuff, and ponder on it
            Until at last I’ve polished off this sonnet.

                 I’ve nearly reached the bottom of my cup,
                 And now my morning musing time is up.

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