What is joy?
Joy is swimming in the early dark,
Looking up at the winter stars as I turn my head to breathe in,
Feeling the simple animal pleasure of my body growing stronger as I flow through the water,
That moment deliciously alone, a sentient thing,
Then, after, going home, the cool air on my cheeks, the grass as I walk on it watery, too, and endless in the early mists as forever,
That’s joy.