new world

early morning intoxicates me
like wine nor gin ever could.
my body is alive at the possibilities
existing in the dark out my window.
i can still hear the bugs
gathered like pilgrims on my roof,
i slip out through the window and stand.
no queen, no king,
but a disciple, bowing before the bzz of the mosquitoes
my arms and legs sacrificial meat.
katy dids scream out their methodical clamor
and i bow to that too.
a firefly passes by
and i almost fall off my roof, stretching to pet it.
it's soft glow is all the light we need in this new world.