Midnight Snack, 1984, by Curtis Wilson Cost
The quiet night is full of sounds.
The cricket chirps. The howling wolf
longs for the moon.
My rumbling stomach tells me tales
of diets I will never keep,
my darkest hour.
My sleep is gone, has crept away
into the cold. The bed is warm,
it holds me tight.
Bare feet uncertain move along.
Past squeaky doors and cracking floors
they find their way.
The fridge door is the hurdle left,
my finish line. The floodlight
brightens up my night.
This is Magpie Tale 139
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Sounds like some of my nocturnal wanderings...and for the same reason, I fear.
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