Midnight Fields 

Poetic Screenplays from the Midnight Hours 

by Silvia Passiflora

 

Midnight Fields follows a traveling poet-songwriter in motion. As memory becomes material and momentum forces daring choices, the audience watches craft shape in real time — with episodes accompanied by production notes for art at the moment of birth, forming a living proof of concept.

Season  1  — Tilt  | A midnight narrative where a single message reopens the past, destabilizing the present and setting the narrator on a course of increasingly consequential choices.

Season 2 — Passage | After love teaches its limits, she leaves the house and hits the open road in Hermie, the van that carries her through the aftermath.

Season 3 — Ahead | Already in motion, she is met by a quiet circle offering witness and steadiness as the road opens into its next passage.

Season 4 — Flowering | With authorship clarified and momentum restored, the work returns to living spaces where sound blooms. 

Season  5 — In Progress |

Season 6 — In Progress |

 

 

Season One: Tilt

A midnight narrative where a single message reopens the past, destabilizing the present and setting the narrator on a course of increasingly consequential choices.

 

Episode 1 — Tilt | A late message arrives after years of silence, reopening a narrative and unsettling the emotional ground beneath it.

Episode 2 — Enter | She approaches what she has avoided, circling like a deer at water. A shadow passes. She reaches out — and the surface is nothing like she expected.

Episode 3 — Near | Words land and are left untouched. Rain keeps time. When he asks what she is building, she answers, and the truth tilts the room. 

Episode 4 — Possible |  Love is measured against duration and patience. She asks what it means to stay. The answer, if it comes, may not be safe. 

Episode 5 — Promise | Backstage, the gift arrives without a card.

Episode 6 — Weather | The sky goes violent. She doesn’t turn back. What she reaches at the end is harder than the weather.

Interlude — Interlude |  Between danger and recognition, she writes the sentence that changes the story.

Episode 7 — Rooms | She almost stays in. Instead, she takes the last slot of the night with a small song. 

Episode 8 — Aurora | A rare light spreads across the southern sky. She isn’t there to see it, and the night fills with a grief that feels larger than her own.

Episode 9 — Maps | She finds a home in motion, the road becoming shelter. Then a message arrives, and the paths she thought were settled begin to rearrange.

Episode 10 — Yes | The road steadies into something like belonging. As the land opens around her, a familiar turn appears.

Episode 1: Tilt

I.
After so long
a message —
everything tilts

II.
Once, his number
held my breath
the way you hold a lantern

III.
The reel jumps backward
mixed signals almost missed
the field full of moon

IV.
I circle the glow —
curiosity lifting the sky
like black lace

the warm car hood
the middle of a field
years crowding the doorway

V.
The message waits
steam rises from the cup —
should I keep the door closed

Episode 2: Enter

I.
Deer at the water
she circles what she already knows
listening for wind

II. 
Fear rises taller
a hawk shadow passing through
then the light returns

III. 
Cold surface waiting
I touch and everything opens
soft as hidden moss

IV.
Minutes learn my name
quiet honest unafraid
nothing feels forced here

V.
Afterward I stand
what I dreaded for so long
turns out not to be stone

Episode 3: Near

I.
Lamp-moth hovering
I leave his words where they fall
the room learns to trust

II.
Rain counts the minutes
his phone lies open and calm
nothing hurries me

III. 
What are you building
he hears the years without rush
and I tell the truth

Episode 4: Possible 

I. 
Do you know love’s work
like a deep well holding rain
do you choose and stay

II. 
Tide holds its silence
salt water weighs every word
I become the shore


III.
If you wade toward me
bring patience deeper than waves
I will watch and see

 

Episode 5: Promise 

I.
He sends the orchid
bent willow like a covenant
in a red clay bowl 

II.
He adds Spanish moss
breathing low like river memory
at the vessel’s lip

III.
Backstage lights humming
she doesn’t look for a card
she already knows

 

Episode 6: Weather

I.
The sky turns strange green
warnings bloom across my phone
I keep driving on

II.
Rain becomes a wall
mountains fade into a hush
something carries me

III.
By the time I park
the show is gone — and I know
where I’m meant to be

 

Production Notes: 

“Tornado Woman” , a poem: https://allpoetry.com/poem/18557179--796-Tornado-Woman--by-Silvia-Passiflora

Interlude: 

Somewhere between storms
and the room that finally knew me
I wrote — this isn’t our time

 

Episode 7: Rooms

I.
I almost stay in
sadness heavy in my chest
hotel curtains drawn

II.
Last slot of the night
ukulele and a bird
nothing fancy, true

III.
Even the bartender
stops mid-shift, hands on his hips
surprised — and listening

IV.
Chairs scrape, people rise
I stand there blinking at joy
standing ovation

 

Episode 8: Aurora

I.
The sky goes electric
a rare aurora in the south
I miss it on the road

II.
We were meant to watch
shoulder to shoulder in wonder
but the night stays blank

III.
The sky holds its brilliance
and I am left with the absence
heavy as weather

 

Episode 9: Maps

I.
I live in this van
Hermie carries me forward
my house on my back

II.
No more empty rooms
the road becomes my shelter
and doors open wide

III.
Then his message comes
and every map in my heart
folds a different way

 

Episode 10: Yes

I.
Hermie on the road
the land breathing in and out
as the day thins out

II.
Fences drift past slow
barns and valleys opening
like they recognize me

III.
The phone lights the map
a turn I haven’t taken
in a long long time


Production Notes:

 #969 Southern Koan of the Untarnished Hinge: https://allpoetry.com/poem/18705696--969-Southern-Koan-of-the-Untarnished-Hinge-by-Silvia-Passiflora
 

Season Two — Passage

After love teaches its limits, she leaves the house and hits the open road in Hermie, the van that carries her through the aftermath.

 

Episode 1 — Drive By  |  In daylight, she parks at the dead-end street where they once met at night, engine running, a long-distance love song carrying her forward .

Episode 2 — Permission | A heartbreak poem stills the room; then she's offered a place to park next to the gallery before the road pulls her on. 

Episode 3 — At the Portal of Snake and Horse  |  Arriving mid-exercise, she joins the writers' circle at the threshold of the Lunar New Year. 

Episode 4— Deleted  |  A late-night scroll reveals an absence made permanent. 

Episode 5 — Winter Clay  | After the break, the land holds memory briefly.

Episode 6 — Flare | After being erased, she stays in, cooks and sends out a small signal — not knowing who might still be watching. 

Episode 7 — Check Engine | A warning light returns. She learns the difference between failure and fatigue, and adjusts how she moves forward. 

Episode 8 — In Poetry We Say  | Old feelings learn to become poems. The room listens as she practices saying the unsayable. 

Episode 9 — Heed | An old poem offers shelter for a new ache. She learns to listen before she moves again. 

Episode 10 — Invitation | A quiet morning offers a small next step. The road answers with a gentle yes. 

 

 

Episode 1: Drive By

I.
Daylight finds the place emptied
A street that ends in trees
The engine keeps its breath

II.
Once we arrived from opposite directions
Headlights learning each other
Before turning back

III.
Now there is only this seat
The hum beneath my feet
One body, keeping time

 

Performance:
The song performed is “Downtown Crazy,” written earlier, about long-distance relationship and getting lost on streets that don't quite lead anywhere. 

Visual:
Daylight. The van idles at the end of a quiet street. Brief flashes of two cars arriving here at night  — then gone. 

 

Episode 2: Permission

I.
I arrive before dusk
Park while the sky still holds
The van warm from the road

II.
Inside, I read my poem
The room leans forward
Receives it

III.
When I return
The mural is still watching
A security camera blinks red

IV.
Nestled beside the gallery
A nearby bar sings me to sleep
I dream about farmer's bees 

V.
Morning breaks late
I wake already behind
The road asks for speed

VI.
Eighty on the highway
A dead deer on the shoulder
I don’t slow

 

Production Notes:
The poem written was “My Heart Was Roadkill” (#556): https://allpoetry.com/poem/18310953--556-My-Heart-Was-Roadkill--by-Silvia-Passiflora

 

Episode 3: At the Portal of Snake and Horse
 

I.
Portals aren’t doors
They open while you’re moving
Missed if you stop short

II.
Library lights low
I slide in just in time
Chairs already warm

III.
Names half-learned, half-held
Word collage, Tattered Writers
Edges finding shape

IV.
She writes:

— #1813 At the Portal of Snake and Horse —

At the portal where years trade breath,
one hand on the past, one on the reins,
two energies watching to see how I enter

Year of the Snake —
old skins loosen at the shoulder,
a silken nightdress sliding down, unfastened by choice
the body remembering its true outline
I step through with nothing clinging

Year of the Horse —
muscle and mercy moving together,
power that listens before it runs
the road answering to a steady hand
I ride as master, not passenger

Hands steady on the reins,
wind saying yes without pushing,
the future choosing me back

V.
When we circle the room
The word I offer is portal
Between years, still open

 

 

Episode 4:  Deleted 

I.
Van breathing in dark fields
The phone wakes like an owl
Blue light against my hands

II.
I scroll past ordinary hours
Then the space where your name was
The app does not hesitate

III.
For a moment
I think this must be wrong
A trick of signal or sleep

IV.
The sky splits once, rain detonates the van
Lightning prints the farm in bone
Fences glow, then vanish

V.
In that white instant
I understand what happened
And why

VI.
Years waited without reply
He chose the cleanest door
That was left

 

 

Episode 5:  Winter Clay

 

 

Episode 6: Flare 

I.
Deleted names echo
in the pan’s small heat
cheese learns how to weep

II.
Friday stays home
music happens without me
and I choose the stove

III.
I aim the camera
like a roadside flare —
lonely, then hearts lift off the screen

IV.
I don’t say this aloud
but I leave the light on
in case you’re watching

V.
I eat what I made
grief pulls up a chair
and lets me finish

 


Episode 7: Check Engine 

I. 
Warning light returns
she knows this road by heart now
pulls back into care

II.
Lifted off the ground
the problem speaks in patterns
not failure — fatigue

III.
Receipt in her hand
she drives gentler than before
lstening this time

IV.
Key returned to her palm
miles to go fade into lamplight
she follows the sound

V.
At Hendershots, the jazz band gathers
what rattled learns a softer measure
in poetry we say

 

Episode 8:  In Poetry We Say

I. 
In English we say: we moved on
In poetry we say: we bowed to the fierce impossible tide that swept us away

II.
In English we say: I'm sorry
In poetry we say:I swim in the ocean of consequence 
and lay my salt body
in the quiet your shoreline allows

III.
In English we say: I am healing
In poetry we say: the tree branches at the wound
and birds nest there

IV.
In English we say: I left your message on Read
In poetry we say: wolf at the river, one paw pressed into the mud —
the prints stop here

V.
In English we say: I'm not over you
In poetry we say: I still follow your scent on the trail

 

Production Notes: 

Performance: LIVE poetry reading: https://youtube.com/shorts/tUFYcCxcO8c?si=j5Muowzdoxz3dLth
 

 

 

Episode 9:  Heed 

#1605 Stopping for Gas on a Snowy Evening, After Robert Frost

Whose tanks these are I think I know
Gas station at the side of the road
foretold by billboards
just as my gauge blinkered low

My little van must think it odd
To overlinger
enjoy the view
Winter’s photograph
an artist’s nod

To ask was there a pressing date
invented haste for some post
hustle culture in my bones
Besides, no signal here, it can wait

The roads stretch on but my mind heeds
promises kept to ancient needs
the miles can wait
dreams press Heed
the miles can wait
dreams press Heed

 

Production Notes: 

Performance: LIVE reading https://www.instagram.com/p/DTu6mpRjlbi/

 

 

Episode 10 — Invitation

I.
Morning in Hermie
condensation on the glass
Light finds the dash

II.
Yesterday’s jazz hums
in my ribs, soft as steam
Kettle beginning

III.
Phone wakes in my palm
one small buzz, then my name
spelled out like prayer

IV.
Come back next month, they say
the road still on my hands
the van breathing ready

V.
In English we say
maybe I will, maybe not
in poetry: yes

 

 

Season Three — Ahead

Already in motion, she is met by a quiet circle offering witness and steadiness as the road opens into its next passage.

 

Episode 1: Present | Clearing her phone, she finds a message she thought was gone. The past resurfaces, and she chooses what to carry forward.

Episode 2: Held | In a quiet session with someone trained to listen, she speaks the record aloud. What steadies her also confirms what she survived alone.

Episode 3: Threshold | In a quiet room, the narrator is offered permission to leave. As a legal deadline tightens elsewhere, the first winds of motion arrive.

Episode 4: Coven | After the breakup, the witches kept her upright and a single message revealed a change she couldn’t ignore.

Episode 5: Snow Moon | In solitude, she weighs advice with gravity. The Snow Moon brings visibility without softness, and a long cycle quietly comes to an end.

Episode 6: Ahead | When waiting loses its power, she makes a daring choice and begins a new season.

 


Episode 1: Present

I.
I tell her now
someone trained to listen
after I cleared the phone

II.
A thread I thought gone
kept by the system
beyond intention

III.
Blue once
green now
a small factual shift

IV.
I read it as record
as artifact
as the older voice I carry

V.
After sirens and wind
after driving through weather
I reached
He left me on Read

 

Episode 2:  Held

I. 
The screen fills with a calm face
the therapist framed in soft light
while the past waits off-camera

II.
We speak of storms and seasons
of lawyers guarding thresholds
of editors straightening wings

III.
Outside the window a new day
assembles its small orchestra
and I learn the word for help
 

Episode 3: Threshold

I.
She says it plainly
If you ever need to go
I will support you

No warning bell
no rupture, just an unlocked door
I stay seated, trusting the chair

What she has taught me
moves with me 
regardless of rooms

II.
Elsewhere counsel measure hours
against a fixed date
and deadline ink holds the line

Nothing dramatic, only a choice
made before panic
not yet a storm

III.
What stays is what steadies
What leaves blesses the path

 

Episode 4:  Coven

I.
They gather around me
voices warm as candles
keeping me upright

II.
Two months pass
and they say
send the message
either way you’ll know

III.
I press send
and only then notice
the color has changed

IV.
They mean well
they hold the flame
even when the spell
cannot change the weather

 

Production Notes:
Contemporaneous poem: Shall We Draw the Next Card? from the Scriptaluna Arcana series

https://allpoetry.com/poem/18556986--795-Shall-We-Draw-the-Next-Card---by-Silvia-Passiflora

 

Episode 5: Snow Moon, Scorpio (Poem #1836)

The Snow Moon lifts
and everything unnecessary freezes
only the true pull remains
clean, unmistakable

I govern by tide
fixed water under moonlight
what comes closer does so willingly
what drifts away was never bound

Desire gathers in the dark
not loud, not asking
a smolder beneath the frostline
felt before it is touched

This moon closes a long-held loop
after patience has spoken enough
what failed to rise dissolves
without argument, without return

I follow the lunar pull forward
toward those who recognize it
toward the future already signed
where the water itself holds trust

 

Production Note: 

From Silvia Passiiflora's Poetry In Flagrante catalog:  https://silviapassiflora.com/blogs/poetry/posts/7703825/1836-snow-moon-scorpio

 

Episode 6: Ahead

I.
Two doors stayed half-open
and called it “maybe”
I stop standing in the hallway
with my hands full

II.
I already have what I need
the record, the proof
the breath that makes the work
and the right to move

III.
What did not rise by choice
falls away by law of nature
I release the waiting
and keep my momentum

IV.
I turn toward what comes next
toward rooms alive with scent and color
where beauty is handled daily
and listening comes naturally

 

Production Note:
This performance features a live re-recording of “Passionfruit (Hot Hot Hot),” distinct from the studio version released on Incarnata (2025). This version reflects the song as currently performed and documented, and stands as an independent live capture.

 

 

Season Four — Flowering 


With authorship clarified and momentum restored, the work returns to living spaces where sound blooms.