The Rambler Has Returned

What does it mean to travel and come home—

To feel your gypsy blood stirred

To understand a little bit of what it’s like

For the ocean to swallow the moon

The highway holds me, calls me

And I followed wherever it leads

I am no braver than you

It’s just that curiosity overcame fear

Yet, I amaze myself!

The miracles wrought by these middle-aged bones

Long, steady climbs, map-reading

Flat-fixing, chowder slurping—skills!

Each day I faced the world, unknown

I can do this, I reminded myself, maybe

I’m out to find midnight, constellations

Spread out across the sky, quiet bays

I had no idea I’d meet a fisherman,

A lady selling blueberry ice cream

A tree with a huge burr, a fairy table

Fellow travelers waiting at the dock.

Together and alone, strangers and friends

We plied the open road

It’s not about certainty, getting there

If only to say I did it, and would do it again.