Too much awake

I am participating in the
 Slice of Life.  
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day, 
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!

A poem, written in the middle of the night, about being awake in the middle of the night. 

These days,

too much new and unusual exercise -

a long run,

a particularly hilly bike ride,

a novel and strenuous aerobics class,

and I am awake

in the middle of the night,

alert,

aware,

attuned.

These days,

too much drink -

whether wine,

or tea,

or simply water,

and I am awake

in the middle of the night,

nagged,

knotted,

noticing.

These days,

too much conversation -

old friends, laughing and recalling,

new folks, meeting and learning,

colleagues, sharing and debating,

and I am awake

in the middle of the night,

reliving,

replaying,

remembering.

These days,

too much food -

whether savory and spicy,

or chocolate and rich,

or copious,

and I am awake

in the middle of the night,

pained,

polluted,

promising to never again.

These days,

too much noise -

a sudden bump,

a clap of thunder,

an ambulance going by,

and I am awake

in the middle of the night,

tense,

twisted.

transfixed.

These days,

it doesn't take much,

and I am awake

in the middle of the night,

waiting,

wondering,

writing.