Finding My Muse

There is no telling where I will find
My muse. Sometimes, if I'm lucky,
She'll appear out of the bottom of an empty glass.
And, if I'm really lucky, she'll appear
Out of an empty bottle.
Mostly she comes when I least expect her--
With a gust of wind, a flock of sparrows
Flying overhead. I've looked for her in
Temples, churches, cemeteries ,
Though it is rare that I find her
In places made sacred by the placement
Of stone. She likes to reside in the forests
Where, like a nymph, she dances from
Tree to tree. Oftentimes I'll be walking through
A wood, and she will pop out from behind
An oak, naked, her amber hair flowing
Like sunlight from her beaming head,
And embrace me, whispering a poem
Into my ear.