It Could Be Worse, Maybe

My god, such a night!
A charley horse in my leg,
muscle spasms in my mind
a desert of sleeplessness
filled with thorny reminders
to prick a tender conscience.
A parade of gulped-down pills,
a rumpled bed, what provokes this
shabby treatment the night gives me?
Morning breaks my shoulders
with the load of another day.
The sun shines brightly, birds
chant hymns of their own worship,
leaves glitter with their usual
jewels of dew, enough wind to make
the flowers nod approval.
And here I am stale as an ashtray
of cigar butts waiting, just daring
someone to smile and say Good Morning.