Improbable Night


It’s been a series of improbable nights.

Some have been spent in frigid high winds, completely alone in the cold as I snapped photographs of suddenly late sunsets on the nights Campbell McGrath contemplated: nights when the mind occupies a place “always elusive, always a city, and wonderful, and lost. All night I wander alone, searching in vain for the irretrievable.”

For a very long time,  solitude has been the hallmark of my nights.

Gravel paths on hillsides amid moon-drawn vineyards,
click of pearls upon a polished nightstand
soft as rainwater, self-minded stars, oboe music
distant as the grinding of icebergs against the hull
of the self and the soul in the darkness. . . .


Deep is the water and long is the moonlight
inscribing addresses in quicksilver ink,
building the staircase a lover forever pauses upon.
Deep is the darkness and long is the night,
solid the water and liquid the light. 


But last night, and the night before that, I wasn’t alone.  I wandered among crowds on city streets and ventured into places I’ve never set foot before.  I met people with wondrous hearts and stories: writers and stand-up comics, actors, radio gods and goddesses, mothers and fathers, people willing to tell their stories and people willing to listen.







Author: Stephanie

In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like forensic evidentiary issues, jury instructions, and expert scientific witness preparation. She attended law school near the the banks of the Charles River and loves that dirty water; she will always think of Boston as her home. You are welcome to take a look at her Facebook author page, or follow @SMartinGlennon on Twitter and @schnitzelpond on Instagram. Bonus points for anyone who understands the Instagram handle. All content on this blog, unless otherwise attributed, is (c) 2012-2023 by Stephanie M. Glennon and should not be reproduced (in any form other than re-blogging in accordance with the wee Wordpress buttons at the bottom of each post) without the express permission of the domain holder.

2 thoughts on “Improbable Night”

  1. I, too have found myself grabbing those vivid and quickly changing sunsets…I mean literally, 3 minutes, and you have lost the shot… the frigid cold, unarmed by warm winter gloves, snow boots, and many times even a coat. But isn’t it worth it? On the solitude….I can relate…around
    midnight or 1 am is the turning point for me where I will either go to bed and dream the dreams
    of searching or staying up to catch that morning sunrise that is so full of crystal and slippery glass plates that reflect the sky perfectly. Love you~

  2. Last night we had some of the same experiences that you had — we met wonderful people and listened to delightful stories, some funny, some extraordinary, some a bit sad but beautiful (performer with a Down syndrome baby). It was great to see Dr. Bob, Randy/Judy, Dan/Laurel, and Catherine and all those impressive story-tellers.
    I love the gold and the blue — and your story of an Improbable Night.. AM

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