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forestbathing

forestbather

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The New Muse

“So you’re the new muse?”

“Yes Ma’am, I am.”

“Well you might be amused at the things you’ll do to free his pen so the ink will flow and his imagination grow. He’ll ask you to play the piano with your toes, and then turn your notes into words on pages observed by birds.”

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but you’re speaking in rhyme all the time!”

“That, dear, is because a muse is not a maid, on the contrary, you’ll sit at a table in the shade, with a cup of tea, most days and he’ll ask how your heels and soles and toes feel in the soft grass.”

“Oh, how eccentric! What else will he ask?”

“Ah Splendid! you just passed my little task to see if you really are ready for such a role.”

“Well I’ll do my best no more no less…”

“Just remember which notes to touch…”