When I Met My Muse
I glanced at her and took my glasses
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.
off--they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. "I am your own
way of looking at things," she said. "When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation." And I took her hand.
A few new sketches here, from last week—
Also, this wonderful thing happened this week...
Huge shout out to our Work In Progress Grant winners! So many wonderful entries. These were outstanding! http://t.co/IaiD0wjtqz #scbwi
— scbwi (@scbwi) September 22, 2015
And here are some images from my heart, my heart— the project that received the SCBWI Don Freeman Work In Progress Grant:
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| my heart is a fence |
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