Morning after a Long Night’s Joy

The sun will rise soon.
All night this dance in my head has kept me awake.
Daylight waxes; distant songs come closer,
The chill of April air envelops with a shock.
I shudder on the concrete steps.

Just what is this inane joy?
This bliss trip you manufacture so periodically?
The sweeps’ dipping and sprinting after insects
Doesn’t cause such euphoria in you normally.
Is this some sort of intoxication?

Delirium is a better word.
This morning the entire circle revolves around me.
The Van Gogh plum tree: picture-still with bird;
The pale blossoms shimmering in the morning grey,
I await the sun to make my night complete.

What will you do then?
Launch into some sort of pagan ritual and dance,
Shed all inhibitions along with your clothes,
Whirl with the wind, tap out the universal cadence;
Are you that gone?

I’ll tremble in the latest sun.
Frozen, I’ll smoke this final joint and watch
The skittering wisps blow toward the new-green fields.
Listen to the peckerwoods; sit in this joyful twitch;
Then I’ll get up and go to bed.

© 1977 Melissa Songer