Dance For The Solstice

I got up and danced for the Solstice, the turning point of the year. It was two-forty-five in the morning, full moon hidden by cloud-too bad the night wasn't clear. Only the cat saw me dancing, maybe the cat could hear the song I made for the Solstice, the turning point of the year. It was a celebration: the light had won over night. While sensible people slept I danced, through the turning point of the year.