Poem: Keep Dripping From the Eaves

Keep Dripping from the Eaves

The air is moist, the breeze is cold

And I’m stuck here nursing at home,

Antsy so, the wide world to roam.

I read adventures, The Odyssey,

And think Odysseus so

Lonely missing Penelope

And infant son Telemachus

While here I mourn the wine dark sea

Lapping shores I cannot now see

Because I’m caring for my own

Penelope. How silly to think

That I would enjoy myself much

To be adrift on Atlantic

Or Pacific when I am home

Here in the hills of the Rockies

Feeling the snow melt from my roof

As the sap climbs into the trees

Roaming just as I would on seas.

Silly Odysseus, silly

Me, to think somewhere else we would

Rather be when all we really

Need must be within ourselves found.

So snow, keep dripping from the eaves.

February 2024

About This Poem:

I wrote this sometime after one of my wife's surgeries (she's had a few in our retirement) when I was feeling a little bit of cabin fever. Everyone has that feeling of needing to get out once in awhile and it's worse when you can't. That's what this poem is getting at and why I reference Odysseus.