…and I am up way to early for the NaPoWriMo prompt to be published on the website. Basically, I fell asleep too early and wound up taking a nap. So after a while I gave up on sleep and began to remember how I loved writing in darkness at winter solstice. Then it got light earlier and I slept a bit later. I am semi-allergic to sunshine and actually prefer autumn/winter to summer. And who doesn’t love spring (except in Elliot’s Wasteland.

So I decided to just to do poetry practice and work with what was staring me in my face. Also, time for another villanelle practice.

Write Ritual

It’s so still. I love writing in the dark.
I write  with a plump peach moon for my lampstand
in silence before those up with the larks
(barring the scratch of my pen making marks,
the twang of  rubberband mental reaches).
It’s so still. I love writing in the dark.
It  redefines what is shadow, and stark.
In the small hours I can explore new found land
in silence before those up with the larks.
I chivvy inspiration’s divine spark.
I write so I might fully understand.
It’s so still. I love to write in the dark.
I like my little nightime writing ark.
I sail in it, ride tides, beach on strands
in silence, before those up with the larks
when all is phosphorescent,  with few sharks
to trouble my inner  night hinterland.
It’s so still. I love to write in the dark
 in silence, before those up with the larks.

Copyright 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.