Sometime After 12 AM

Sitting, covered by blankets,
Quilts, holding the chill at bay,
A pillow propping me almost,
Upright, with a journal carefully
Placed to catch the wily words
My handmade pen traces from
The interiors of mind’s gray matter
Planted like nourishing fruits,
Vegetables, ripening over time.
Books, pens, tablets, all close to
Hand for change in operation
Should some desperate need
Apply beyond the sweet tones
Broadcast through the speaker
Streaming what bathes me
In warmth, pleasure, peace,
Easing the shake that sometimes
Turns capable hands used to
Calming others into erratically
Fluttering light imprisoned moth
Wings beating away life’s color.

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© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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