Robert Bly poses a question that doesn't help me get back to sleep

By 8 PM, I could not stay awake. And by 3 AM I seem to have lost my ability to sleep entirely. 

I heard from an old friend tonight about a writer's group we talked about me possibly joining back in the Spring. Maybe it's time for that now. They could use some new blood, but am I even that anymore - tired, dulled, antisocial, uninspired? Groups are hard for me and something I turn away from most of the time even when I feel good.

The first writing prompt is to begin a story with a line from a Robert Bly poem. He recently died, Mr. Bly. I tried reading him a few times over the years but couldn't feel it. Maybe I'll try again. Why not? It's nearly 4 AM.

And I said to myself, "What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?"