From the Insomniac’s Diary as she obsessively adjusts her pillows: The half moon gives a wink. Aww, dear metaphor in my sky, will I be able to overcome this fatigue and wink back with humor and joy as I welcome sleep? Only the dawn has the answer. Stay tuned!
From the Insomniac’s Diary: The ghosts of memory and regret are stomping around in the dark before dawn. Laughing as they scare away sleep and I toss pillows while calling sleep to please return.
From the Insomniac’s Diary: Sometimes between the night and the morning, even in the middle of the city, there are moments of the deepest dark silence. No car wheels or sirens. And then, the invisible wind swirls by with a whoosh. Wings flap outside the window. Is that “woo” the call of an owl? We can remember that, even in the middle of the city, the hidden wild sings to us.
By Morning and the “giving in”: Quiet is a gift. Living on cloud shores and navigating by street lights. We are sailing. May all our waters be warmed by the light of our love and our uncharted routes be mapped by our courage.
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Roseann Weiss
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