I’m working on a post about my road trip around Arizona with my Mom over Thanksgiving (I know, I’ve been M.I.A.), so I wanted to find a poem that was an ode to travel or vacations. I remembered this Walt Whitman poem, which is perfect because he is also my Mom’s favorite poet.
Song of the Open Road, I
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)
– Walt Whitman, 1819 – 1892