Unravelled Scribbles
Another Sleepless Night.
Not that, these days, there are many—
But when they do come they surprise me
and I find myself unprepared.
And I like to feel prepared for life.
But last night I gave myself up
to the dark side of light,
and let the hours wander me where they would….
The creek roared her white-water tales
and misty apparitions
drifted through the soft lamplight
spilling over the water.
I let my pen sprawl
over the pages of my journal,
writing words that always startle
and amaze me
with their honesty.
I read Yeats and Jane Kenyon.
Read “Under Ben Bulben” thrice
dodging old memories between the lines,
while Jane’s homespun wisdom comforted me
like a time-worn quilt.
Not companion poets one would think,
but they both beckoned me to their pages.
I put up no resistance
and was the better for it.
It was a good night
strange and mystical,
alone with the rain,
the wild untamed water
my books
my dog
and unchained memories.
Views from Annie's Cabin 
Wow. Last night was indeed “strange and mystical”! The veil is thin. And I love your poem. Thanks for sharing it.
Thank you, Sonja—–your words fuel my soul!