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(composed in honor of National Poetry Month, April 2007)
Flashes of lightning pierce
my unshaded bedroom window.
The clap of thunder fierce
jolts me from my slumber.
Paleolithic instinct tells me, stay
sheltered until danger passes.
Against this drive I have to weigh
age-inappropriate sleeping patterns.
How came I to acquire the routine
that bids me rise before the dawn
(while peers of mine begin to dream,
or just wrap up their active nights)?
Why do I tire mere hours after
the sun has set and darkness settled in,
unable to add my peals of laughter
to parties with friends and family?
Am I seeking an easy excuse
in this highly deviant schedule,
finding reason to recuse
myself from social engagements?
To test this hypothesis, I might
first banish my fear of interactions.
If I then become a creature of the night,
we'll know the cause of my present habit.