In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?

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What occupies your thoughts and afternoons? What muse twirls through your thoughts as you drift off to sleep at night, and distracts you in the middle of your day?
Birdsong at dawn, the smell of coffee; fresh tea in a cup close at hand, perhaps a piece of toast.
Sun filters through gauzy curtains, or beats down on your cheekbones as you lay in the grass. Fresh sunlight glows in a painting of Greece. Sky-colors fade, you walk briskly at sunset, water twinkles, books are held open. Headphones pour cascades of music in your ears, fast notes and throbbing beats. Still moonbeams stretch across the floorboards, looking up into the great white globe that moves our tide.
Fingers move: sketching, stirring; minds wander to constellations and galaxies, distant rooftops; hearts and souls that want describing. Sing. Tell. Ride imagination. Fly.
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