Morning After

I woke up after sleeping on the floor
brain-slewed, staggering, swearing in room-trash –
gummed remnants in teacups, spilt meagre ash –
it was only because I was drunk the night before.

I went to the window and saw
the midsummer tree beaming in the sun,
light-swilling, as if it shone for the first time.
Was it only because I was drunk the night before?