A SCOLDING FROM MY MUSE!

A SCOLDING FROM MY MUSE

It's when my muse is silent that I fear
my poetry has gone away again.
But then from out of nowhere do I hear:
"be patient, fool, you know you'll write again!"
"But when?" I retort, forgetting all my patience,
and any manners I was ever taught
"Poetic gifts do not fit in planners,
to be randomly scheduled, sold or bought;
they dance boldly, their colors true, and spring
bright as anything found in nature's ring!"