You will need sweaters
and books
and toothpaste
and a pair of socks
or two
or five
and one more pair of socks
just in case.
Add extra pants
and those three extra shirts
and your maps
and your earplugs,
your mints and phone
your playlists and away-messages
your doodads
gee-gaws
flotsam
jetsam
belt
hat
lucky quarter
sippy-cup
missile-launcher
and you’re set
for at least a week
most likely.
Or maybe
you need nothing
but a hopeful heart
to be filled with adventure
and a mind
with a hairline crack
to let the light in.
xxx
c
Image by noizephotography via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.
{ 7 comments }
“a hopeful heart
to be filled with adventure
and a mind
with a hairline crack
to let the light in”
Ah, how I wish I had let you pack me up for vacation.
xo,
Nona
I agree with Nona. I am sitting home with the flu, trying to figure out what will make me feel better – your poem and the opportunity to plan for my next road trip did it! Sailing over the hills of Vermont with Van Morrison turned up loud and the “cracks” open – real heaven!
Well done Colleen!
Socks but no jocks? Interesting…
This poem ranks as a favorite most certaintly.
Love it!!!
Love it!
But it is Wednesday, isn’t it? I freaked when I saw Thursday.
Nona – Trade ya. :-)
Anne – You’re welcome. It’s a tonic, thinking about trips, ain’t it?
Melissa – Haha. Then again, jeebus—am I going to have to add those to the packing list in my 50s? What fresh hell is this?
PP – Thanks, babe. Your ongoing support makes these word doodles possible. Seriously.
Lisa – No, you’re not going insane—I’ve been moving so fast, I completely lost track of time. And this poem was supposed to post tomorrow. Oh, well. I have, it appears, blown my cover. PAY NO ATTENTION TO THAT MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN.
I had always heard that when your heart breaks, the cracks let the love back inside. But I love the idea of letting cracks in my mind let the light in.
And you totally nailed true travel freedom.
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