CABIN FEVER

CABIN FEVER

Snow lashes my eyes,

the gnarled grasp of one degree

Fahrenheit squeezes my fingers

while I run out to feed the birds.

Cardinals, Towhees, Chickadees,

and Nuthatch locked outside

the window I’m locked behind,

scratching my belly,

yawning.

I take a sip of coffee

and watch the little wars they fight

in the corners of the feeder.

I’m afraid to fire up the television’s

hot debates about cruelty, bombs,

and lying politicians.

I need to read A Comedy of Errors

for the school play,

think about when the roads may clear

and class resume,

or clear out that room where we’ve,

created a chaotic universe of stuff

we haven’t found a place for.

But a white blanket has laid itself down

and muffled my head

here in my little corner.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

isn't it ironic? That which keeps us dry and warm and safe from what's outside often
feels like a prison...we are so busy protecting ourselves we forget to live.
j.

[Vol]

Thanks for the review, man.
It is the world we live in.
I used to tell my students that because of the horrible level of sensory overload in today's world, everyone is crazy. It happened so gradually, and to the same degree everywhere, nobody noticed. All you have to do is try to spend a week alone far away from other people and noise to see how uncomfortable we have become. The history of mankind until a hundred fifty years ago was characterized by QUIET, and leisurely travel, because we walked.
I read a study once concerning the urbanization of Africa in the sixties and seventies. It seems every form of mental disorder increased dramatically, even those that were purely genetic.