A small note of solidarity to my Sisters of the Night as I see you here at 2:15 a.m. Those ones who know no good comes from still being awake ‘cause we have so much stuff to do in the morning. Those who hear the 2 a.m. birds in the alley singing some crazy jazz. Those who are concentrating on poetry and recipes and just can’t make sleep be a visitor. Especially now that sleep needs to stand six feet away and wear a mask. Those who revel in the silence. Those who hear the last truck lumbering down the street. Those who close their eyes to block out these words. Yes. Small quiet notes like the alley bird at 2 a.m. telling us about our hearts in a language sleepers do not understand.
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Roseann Weiss
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