3am Muse

                                Charles C Brooks III & Anthony DeTomasso  


When it’s three thirty in the morning,

and you’re shaken awake for no good reason,

there’s bound to be a poem in there somewhere.


Tip-toeing into my jeans and a T-shirt,

at first I just wanted to move around.

Inspiration wasn’t sprinting, it was sputtering.


So I stepped outside to smoke and saw

a crescent moon smiling down on me.

The wind had a whip to it, but not too much.


The silence was amazing.

Taken for granted in this age,

but out there on my deck I reveled in it.


Then I figured that was the purpose of my waking.

This Thanksgiving Day was opened

with me firmly planted in Nature.


Back inside, my wife is asleep, so I type these

words lightly.  I wouldn’t want

my restlessness to become contagious.


But my words spun,

and I bid you good night, normal folk, I am relaxing again.

When my fire cools, so does my need to sing.