I sit down with the Myth of Amherst
And soon troubles and worries
I forget.

I look to see if her verse still breathes
And find with hearty satisfaction
They do still yet.

I entwine myself in her arrangements
Enigmatic and she kindly takes
My hand…
She leads me through gardens of
Imagination replete with untitled topiary
And genius meter.

Where I encountered first
The Myth of Amherst,
I'm not exactly sure.
Her words--canteens of obscure mysts
To slake an interested thirst.