It is then, deep in the folds of the night, that I must write. The past two days have been filled with business writing for a new animal rescue. I have brainstormed, partnered with the executive director and thrilled at the possibility of being a small part in the saving of lives. (for more information and the possibility of sharing in this important work, see furryeverafter.com) The marketing and mission statements energized me.
But it is in the blackness, sprinkled with sparkling stars, the music of the water, the call of the trains that I write for myself, exploring the stories that swirl through my head, the words that flow through my blood.
I ache with the longing to find the correct word, the exact combination of letters to evoke emotion, bring forth the pictures that repeatedly call to me.
I write into the depths of the night, stepping onto the balcony to breathe the cold night air. Lights shimmer in reflection in the pond below me. I set my words in my mind and return to the laptop to bring them to the world outside my thoughts.
And as the birds begin to arrive at the feeders along the railing, I look up into the lightening air, close the laptop and seek the sleep that will take me into the morning. My words stand waiting for the next black solitude to bring forth their sisters, call out their pictures and bring life to the worlds within my mind.