#441: The bug for travel does not sit with me . . .

Welcome to day 3 of my sonnetpalooza. All sonnets, all the time. 24 hour sonnets. I’m feeling pretty groovy about my progress. I find myself, even, a bit ahead of schedule. As of this third day, I have composed five of these babies. The jury is out about whether I will post more than one on any given day, or whether I will just save up the extras, taking the luxury of choosing the best out of two, perhaps, or even three! I don’t mean to brag. I’ve got time on my hands, apparently, and I fully appreciate that in this I am MOST lucky.

So far, I am staying pretty religious about the Shakespearean structure. I may have to veer away from that at some point–try the Spenserian, or the Petrarchan, or the Faulknerian (hey, wait a minute, that last guy was no sonneteer!) I find myself fudging here and there on my syllable count–but even Shakespeare did that–so I think that leaves me off the hook.

Today’s sonnet is less dramatic, perhaps, than the previous dog barf inspiration, but it’s still a topic that I think about often. Sure, it’d be nice to travel to exotic places, see the world, bust out of my complacency–but then again, not so much. Enjoy. And thanks for reading.


The bug for travel does not sit with me.
I prefer home or camping close at hand
To jetting across the globe or country.
The joy my friends take from it, I understand.           
I am content to look at their photos,
Vicariously share their adventures,
the enthusiastic search for highs and lows,
Nature’s allure, and ancient sepulchers,
the languages, those traditions, that sense
Of losing oneself in another world—
I am happy to peer over the fence;
There’s no fear of missing out unfurled. 
My travels seem to take me to places
That feel like home, all familiar faces.  

Published by michaeljarmer

I'm a public high school English teacher, fiction writer, poet, and musician in Portland, Oregon

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