I confess,
I sneak about, at night
getting a glimpse of starlit sky
to transmute feelings into words.

Vibrations explode inside restless poetic mind to launch a poem.

I sneak around
when streetlamps are lit, 
and sleep evades self,
as rays of moon call
to aim pen at blank page.

Sometimes,
in day energies invite
inside birds song
for poems to fly out,
as if words have wings.

Other times, I take breath
aligning in daily activities
to find poetic jargon
Behind every corner
ready to strike creative mind.

Heart pumps weather day or night encouraging with its musical song.

And in dreams,
there is always room
to tuck a vision away in memory
to on awakening birth a poem.

I confess I love my writing gifts.