An owl I met today on my afternoon walk to the river. He said his name was Muse. An interesting name for an owl, yet I inquired no further. I enjoyed the pleasant conversation we shared as he flew alongside me on my usual solitary sojourn. I asked him what his occupation was. He declared in a decidedly British accent, his voice soft and clipped, "I flutter over the shoulders of others, often adding to their work, and I give them something, a tangible object they put into their writing, or story. And in return, they give me perspective, a way if you will to look through the eyes of another."
