Mamaw and Papaw loved that tree.
It was on the property when they moved there after selling their business and retiring.
They didn’t want to spend their golden years in some Miami Beach condo.
Instead, they bought what used to be a small horse farm in central Kentucky.
There was this maple tree beside the house.
The first year, it looked like it was dying.
The landscaper they had hired said it needed to come down.
They told him to do whatever he could to save it,
And it survived.
Mamaw and Papaw left the farm to me.
I moved onto the property to start my new life.
One night, I sensed that the spirit of my Muse was descending on the tree,
Surrounding it, then engulfing it.
It was the Heavenly Muse who had inspired me to write songs.
She had followed me to my new home, so I sang to her.
None of what I just shared actually happened, at least not in this world.
I never called my grandparents “Mamaw and Papaw,”
And they never bought a horse farm.
But what if I told you that I believe I have an alter ego,
In an alternate universe,
That has a Kentucky,
Where Muses follow songwriters and inhabit trees,
And the writers sing to the trees?