Where do you go when wanderlust takes hold
in the tips of your fingers? In the
crooks of your elbows? The back of your knees?
When the kink in your neck calls for uprooting?
(When even your spine agrees that it’s time to break?)
Rooftops are too crowded. Subways too empty.
The skies are too traveled. The ocean too cold.
The roads are too well-paved or too abandoned.
Scenery is too littered and too forced.
You are making excuses to stay.
Highest Form of Whit 
love it ! my wanderlust took me through the snowey hills n valley’s were i traveld as a boy this morning . really like your writeing !
That speaks to me. Thanks.