Not entirely sure what to make of this poem, Jean, but that’s a good thing. I think it’s personal when a poem can’t be specifically identified, defined, or boxed, allowing one to identify with the poem on a personal level that may not be what was intended or what someone else might interpret. And, isn’t that what poetry is about?
Tonight, I read this and feel a pang of intense sadness, as though the dripping is tears. I feel longing and loss and emptiness.
Tomorrow, I may read it and feel like the dripping is springtime rain or perhaps, something completely different.
I like the ambiguousness of this poem. I like that it conforms to what I am feeling.
Yes, I like this very much, Jean.