What is daylight? What is midnight?
The cat site by the window, stares out
at the snow. The amount of light
that shines on it seems immaterial.
I think back to nights when, drunk,
I wrote ten, twenty, thirty poems
a night and envy his confidence,
try to remember what it was about
the world that inspired so many
drops of radiance that swirled
out into the night, nine-line ripples
in the heavy air of Abington, PA