You may have noticed the new avian-themed badge that is proudly displayed atop my sidebar. It's to mark my membership in a grouping of writers called the Society of Midnight Wanderers.
Conceived by JD at The Uneasy Supplicant and Mike at Mr. Grudge, it's a badge of honor binding those writers whose dedication to their craft takes them on journeys beyond the normal bounds of measured time. You can read a much more eloquent description of the society and its members here. I'm extremely flattered that JD and Mike included me in this.
I've written the following poem to commemorate the occasion, and am looking forward to sharing this badge with the host of wonderful writers and poets whose sites I happen across in my regular nocturnal wanderings through the blogosphere.
By Francis Scudellari
I touched, after midnight, wander
Raised from open eyed sleep, beckoned
Forth by icy unknown, digits
Pointing, scratched tips on knobby spine,
Nail-mapped pathways, scribbled ciphers
To guide my self-meand'ring steps
I feel, finger-forward, stumble
Into moonlit mists, mythic shrouds
Wrapping murmur-voiced brooks, watered
Cautions against too light led sight,
My long, lashed lids pulled down close, knit
To cloak seemed truth, trickling above
I kneel, with pair handed cup, down
Spade the black, wormed soil overturn,
Unearth tangled roots, topped plants gone,
Clearing shallow, seed softened bed
Where my thoughts can seep home, returned
To walk, once more in-waking dreams