View From The Glen

Tuesday, August 16, 2011


I woke in the pre-dawn yesterday morning with a fragment of a poem in my head. So often if a thought comes to me that time of day, I go back to sleep and lose it. This time it begged to be written down so by the light of the moon, on the back of a paper butterfly, and with a scratchy pencil, I wrote down the single line.


Half an hour later my subconscious made an adjustment to the line and back up I got to scribble the change down.

I hate being woken from sleep, even for a line of poetry that won't go away.

1 comment:

Finola said...

I think it's lovely to be woken up by a line of poetry. And it is much better than being woken up by my beeping fridge as I was last night at 4am. And I KNOW it wasn't me who left it ajar.