I can’t seem to go to bed
Words rattling round inside my head.
I publish them with pictures bright
After editing long into the night.
My husband scolds and scoffs at me,
“Ridiculous! It’s half past three!”
I read much more - it feeds my soul
Forgetting dawn will take its toll.
A very tiny price to pay,
Drooping lids for half the day.
In exchange I treasure here
A well-fed spirit, absent fear.
(c) Joyce Harback, 2006