Telemachus Tends his Driveway

Athens, Georgia

November 22, 2010; revised April 30, 2014
Thoughts revisiting Tennyson’s Ulysses and his son Telemachus

The world shimmers

beyond the kaleidoscopic canopy

decorating my driveway

with layers of leaves.

So I set my purpose
•       make a plan
•       grasp the rake
•       execute the task
mindfully, at first
while two tired dogs

watch, curiously

indifferent to achievement,

snouts down the driveway,

waiting for their goddess

to drive home.

And I too wait

as something in my soul

watches with practiced patience

its own wild yearning

to pursue that grey spirit

through archways to unknown worlds

        and yet

I have lived so far

in the common sphere

with Telemachus, tied

to due adoration of gods

both false and true, balancing

dutiful with discerning

over slow, prudent decades:

•       of discipline

•       of accomplishment

•       of exiting gracefully

a life, not unhappy

        while a soul that could soar

kept safely to ground.

Can Telemachus, retired

capture Ulysses’ soul?

Can the good son

        sail lightly

                beyond the sunset

        on a warm autumn breeze

                        and swirl of dry leaves?

My solace is a still vision

of grey Telemachus

        transcending duty

grasping his own salvation

        in the next task,

                and the next

pursued with a passionate
        kindness.