hey, is anybody else awake in the middle of this deepest darkest night? does anyone else cuddle beneath warm pink and white comforter on couch listening to minutes tick by?
do you hear the refrigerator humming? are you hungry? do you dig in the frig and eat leftover chinese food from the restaurant, do you, even though you know you shouldn’t fill your stomach at midnight, but you do it anyway, such a rebel?
do you turn on your computer even though you know you should leave it off & dark, silent & still, so as not to get your creative communicative wheels spinning?
do you sit silently instead, listening, hour after dark hour, the coyotes howling at your sleeplessness?
do you hear raccoons and skunks foraging, night creatures digging holes in your lawn, gnawing and munching tasty dark treats, probably as delicious to them as leftover garlic chicken mixed with crispy crunchy carrots and beans and brocoli?
oh listen to that owl hooting at your meal. he’d rather eat a mouse.
should you start a fire in the wood stove because autumn approaches like a sleepless night, something you want to push away in favor of sweet warm comforts?
should you walk outside in the dark, would you shiver in fear, would you jump at unknown crackles or would you celebrate the mystery of the night, the magic of dark shadows, the infinite unknowings of your life?
are you getting sleepy now? do your bed sheets beckon? does the moon want to whisper yet another secret in your waning ear? does it speak of shape-shifting, always appearing and dissolving, always changing its womanly curves?
relax into the night, fellow traveler. morning brings new treasures, new autumn leaves falling into the water of your soul.
blink your sleepy eyes and yawn. relax into the dawn of the next sacred moment, precious one.