Trapping Sunlight in Night Owl Wings

Bleary eyed I rise from bed to pretend
I am a coffee and cream morning girl.
The rush of caffeine bullies insomnia
to the back of my mind and sparks
my restless bones to move in the rhythm
of daylight and wheel hum of traffic.

Standing at my back door I watch tree limbs
dip and sway beneath the weight of
feather wing brushes channeling
Van Gogh as they fly from branch to branch.

Absorbing energy from a new day I sort
through my wishes and dreads to find
the bridge that leads to one step at a time.

A night owl with sun spotted purpose
I yawn and stretch into a list of chores
daylight demands while my midnight muse
whispers, “I’m hungry for ink.”

©Susie Clevenger 2020


Sherry Blue Sky said…
And I'm hungry to READ your ink. I love this poem, from wonderful title to the very last word. Spectacular.
Helen said…
This is utterly beautiful, Susie.
You have described that angst of mornings after a night(s) of insomnia precisely.
Jim said…
I too am a night owl. Not saying I'll not have a short nap before the ten o'clock news. But I'll be awake after midnight or later if I'm composing, probably on the edge of the bed.
Come morning now that I'm retired the Mrs. Jim's instructions are to bring me coffee and my half granola bar and ask if I want to get up now. If my answer is "No" then to let me sleep. Sometimes she sleeps until nine, we don't set an alarm unless we are to take our youngest granddaughter to school.
Margaret said…
Oh, I identify with that last stanza!
Sanaa Rizvi said…
You had me at the title!💝 What a gorgeously vivid poem this is, Susie. I resonate especially with; 'I yawn and stretch into a list of chores daylight demands while my midnight muse whispers,“I’m hungry for ink.”'💝
Rommy said…
I agree with Sanaa. That's a killer title. The feelings were familiar to me too, though my muse seems to hit me at the other end of night.
From title on, you had me, Susie. What a colorful poem!
Oh, how I love this! (Being another such, lol.)