Nectar

I will with wine toast the Muse and, gifted,
Wait to pass her past opaqued veil.
Another glass, with loud libation lifted,
Shall bend the ear to hear her whisp’red hail.
Two glasses, deep with drink, attunes the soul
For goddess speech and loosened man’s response.
A steady hand records her soft control
Of warmer blood with what that breath announce.


by Evan Wilson