Good morning, Midnight!
I’m coming home,
Day got tired of me –
How could I of him?

Sunshine was a sweet place,
I liked to stay –
But Morn didn’t want me – now –
So good night, Day!

–Emily Dickinson–

Blues Like Emily sings

 moan sad and low down

with a steel guitar slide

 some bent harp on the side.

To tie it all up,

You can’t drink this from a tea cup.

This mortal sound

must be passed round

tasted straight and bitter

from a common bottle

deep and old as the rolling ocean.