One week a year, Eleven Sisters gather
From east and west and far across the sea,
From south and north we come, we who would rather
Abandon lives, though temporarily,
To court sad Melpomene and to laugh
With Thalia, with Polyhymnia
To sing on creativity’s behalf,
And hope our families are blessed by Hestia,
For though we crave this fleeting sacred space
Where words may freely flourish in our brains
We know we’ll leave our leisure in this place,
But acts of our creation will remain.
Collaboratively we hone our craft
In hopes of leaving with a partial draft.