The chill in the air
as the clock ticks
around three thirty.
Mr Tumnus purring
and grabbing my arm
as I type. 
I used to panic at
three thirty,
being awake 
but now, somehow,
it doesn’t matter anymore.
I read about sleep in the middle ages.
The two sleeps…
with time for pottering, writing,
cooking, eating, making love, in between….
so sleeplessness … well
it doesn’t matter anymore…..
I see it as a gift to be awake when most sleep,
a gift to be with myself 
and maybe do the work my heart calls me to.
Life before the two sleeps?….. well –
just catch me humming,
it doesn’t matter anymore.