ode to my muse

i have a muse
so undeserving
so very blessed 
so very... how
do i have a muse?

to muse and inspire
she does nothing
but simply be 

a wave of her hand
    fireflies appear
    each one glowing 
    a poetic theme
as she walks
    verses of wild flowers 
    bloom fragranced
    in her wake
    each one a dream
as she speaks
    butterflies emanate
    each flutter a
    petite metaphor
a mere glance
    a sonorous lament 
    an uplifting swell
    heart and soul
    melting and melding
and when she sings
    'tis a master class
    bübüls listening
    for inspiration 

i cannot explain
not in ten thousand
suddenly less mediocre 
poems and songs