Celebration
There is something very free and something very right
In an empty house on the turn of night
Just some quiet rooms with a lean and lovely look
And the promise of a bath and the presence of a book
With everything to do, but no one to do it for
I can settle, I can saunter, I can rush through every door
I can pad into the kitchen and pour a glass of wine
I can dine with silver spoons or just forget to dine
Or lean against the fridge in my lacy underwear
nibbling chicken with my fingers—I can, there’s no one there
No one yelling for its mama, no one murmuring “my dear”
No one tugging at my skirts and no one nibbling on my ear
No one frowning at my music, no one bound to hum along
I can cantillate a hymn or shout a hallelujah song
I can whistle if I want to and not quite make the key
Or tap my foot to a rhythm that is me
Or strip down naked and dance to my own tune
Then sit in the dark and watch the rising of the moon.
I can do that if I want to or do then again instead
And I’m very, very happy as I take myself to bed.