National Poetry Month - Maya Angelou

I spent a lot of the last decade in the throes of insomnia. All that has faded in the last three years, as I left menopause behind, and now it is rare that I don't get 6 good hours or more of sleep each night. I also take time to wake and spend a stolen 1/2 or hour in bed once I wake up, just lazing and getting prepared for the next day.

Something went wrong last night, and I last looked at the clock at 4 a.m. after fighting sleeplessness all night. I recalled a poem by the incomparable Angelou that I used to be fond of, and called it up as a "joke on me" this April Fools Day.

Enjoy!

Insomniac

by Maya Angelou

There are some nights when

sleep plays coy,

aloof and disdainful.

And all the wiles

that I employ to win

its service to my side

are useless as wounded pride,

and much more painful.