February 5, 2011

Ode to My Cup

Just for fun, -one of the poems I've written lately. (This is what happens when you leave a foot or more of snow on your roof!)

Standing on my windowsill
blinking in the morning light,
reflecting the falling crystals
melting in and outside-
catching water droplets
which would otherwise
hit my head
keeping water off my books
and the foot-board of my bed.
The thick sound of plunking
as each drop hits the base-
a thunder, gently rumbling
keeping rain at bay.
The water quiets, swelling now
it rises against the rounded steel
it looks to overflow, perhaps
in its helping, welling, zeal.
It’s gathering in the showers,
it’s hiding pools in its caves-
my cup from foreign places
now foreign rains contains.
But I am safe, with my soldier near
(I don’t care so long as I’m dry).
Though wet, I think him as glad as me-
I imagine he overflows with joy.


  1. I've told you this before, but I really like this poem, particularly how the cup is "blinking". Maybe he is winking at you instead ;-)