I dream of planting a flower garden but one that blooms by night. A garden filled with flowers that come alive under the moonlight.
I see myself sitting in a gazebo of chestnut wood with screen lined windows. It stands in the middle of my garden where the moonlight can shine upon it. The bench seats lined with soft cushions allow me to sit in comfort. A metal framed glass table in the middle holds a three wick candle. The flames illuminate the space with its flickering light. I have my notepad and pencil on my lap, as I sit cross-legged, listening to the sounds of nightfall.
I sit and admire my planted blossoms. The pale petals of moonflowers, the fragrant scents of tuberose, gardenia and Japanese wisteria. I sit still and try not to worry about time. I allow myself to be immersed in the colors and fragrance of my nocturnal garden. I await the arrival of the muse. I can hear her footsteps on the moonlit path. I pick up my pencil and reposition my notepad. The time has come to write.