It’s one a.m. and I’m still up. I should have gone to bed a few hours ago, but my best brain activity seems to kick in long after sunset, long after phones have stopped ringing and no one is apt to come to the door. In the wee hours of darkness there is a tremendous long stretch of solitude that lends itself to writing. I can’t say what I look like the next day or what time I’ll want to roll out of bed, and I know that in about three weeks, I’ll have to stop all of this staying up until the roosters crow. I’ll be back at my day job, but in the meantime, I write at night, just because….
Darlene, How have you been? I have missed your fabulous poetry for a long time, I have been so caught up with various things in life that I have become extremely infrequent online.
But I can so relate to your post here, I have for many many months been a fully fledged nocturnal animal for precisely the same aloneness that the darkness inevitably offers…
I hope all is well with you and your family.