Clio, my Muse

I encounter Clio

Every time I call at a historical building.

She is flowing at my shoulder,

Whispering to me about the wonder

Of the ancient place I am visiting.

Behold this painting, she will say.

Have you observed that curling ceiling?

Oh the sheen of the silverware

And the bloody tales of the family.

Let’s go find out more.

I can almost see her,

Transparently beautiful,

Wrapped in her white peplos,

As we traipse into the Great Hall

And imagine a grand feast taking place there.

Find out if there are any scandals, she says,

And how they made their money.

Find out all you can, she breaths in my ear.

Be quiet, I whisper back, let me absorb

This history alone. For it is my time to be.