This poem came my way recently and struck me as a very positive and lovely way to celebrate sleeplessness. Oh, the ‘bliss of being alive.’ This poem is for my SIL, V, and my dear friends M and J and I am sure, many more of my dear Readers will appreciate it too.
Bliss – May Sarton
In the middle of the night,
My bedroom washed in moonlight
And outside
The faint hush-hushing
Of an ebbing tide,
I see Venus
Close to
The waning moon.
I hear the bubbling hoot
Of a playful owl.
Pierrot’s purrs
Ripple under my hand,
And all this is bathed
In the scent of roses
By my bed
Where there are always
Books and flowers.In the middle of the night
The bliss of being alive!
As it is almost the Centenary of (some) women first getting the vote in Britain, I am republishing the Suffragette Diary, a copy of which I found in my late Father’s papers. I will let you know as soon as it goes live.
My facsimile scarf given to me by my Mum
Walking into town today, a neighbour’s gates were open and I spotted their wonderful, quirky reindeer in the front garden. Aren’t they a delight?
Wood and stick reindeer
