Midnight

I could have cried for the beauty of it all:

Walking at midnight down the double yellow line

of rainsoaked asphalt,

Stars as my witness, I threw my arms out

and sang to the sky.

Half whispered-spoken song

of the glory of it all,

And my gratitude at having been given a glimpse

of What It Is All About.

Pondered a cartwheel in the muddy sand at roadside

and realized I was laughing

The laugh of someone who's been let in on a secret:

Shhhh - don't let on

just yet.

But I've never been good at secrets - just look at me:

Giggling along, half-dancing again

across the lines

Arms up, pinwheel on tiptoe,

Taking in the sand, stars, sea in turn,

Rolling them through my eyes

as I roll through them

Until we are mixed so far into each other

that only one thing remains:

Joy.

[Copied from a sheet of notepaper dated 9 Nov 02. Not so much a poem as blissed-out roadside stream of consciousness. Honest, I swear I was as sober and straight as a man can be. It was just a beautiful night, and (I think) I'd just gotten back from a lovely night flight.]