The Poetry Hour
by Donna Bingham
The moon peeks between the slats of the blinds and a shadow disrupts the moonlight. The coach arrives at my front door attended by two footmen with whom I am familiar. Dressed in tight britches and fitted coats, Muse and Inspiration await my approach. Bundled in pajamas, robe, and padded slippers, I run to the burnished carriage. I ease open the carriage door and board. Inside, a mahogany writing table is set with an endless array of implements – sturdy fountain pens, fine-tipped ballpoints, smooth gliding rollerballs, textured vellum papers, and a soft glowing lamp. As the carriage moves silently through the darkness my mind and fingers meld into a flawless symphony of words and rhythm. It is always poetry that spills onto the page on these late night travels.
It is always poetry that spills onto the page on these late night travels.
The carriage surges onward with its wheels skimming the surface of the darkened road. Words fall from my pen like confetti that sparkles and skitters across the page. It is as though an enchanted door opens into a vast treasure room of creativity. The glittering of syllables begs for my attention. I scoop them into my arms and fill my pockets with their magic. My pen can hardly contain the joy and wonder of so many beautiful words. Words laced with the color of imagination shimmer and illuminate each stanza.
Words laced with the color of imagination shimmer and illuminate each stanza.
Tonight’s journey is nearly complete. The enchanted door slowly begins to close as the coach approaches my destination. I look out of the carriage window to see the moon’s glow fading. The trees shiver awake. Their leaves wave good morning. The willow branches welcome me home.
Donna Bigham is a member of SourcePoint’s creative writing group. Creative writing typically meets on the last Monday of each month at 2 p.m.