Many of you know that I have a vagabond heart. I am always looking for the next trip, next trek, next move—the “next big thing.” As I get older, I am struggling with “settling down.” The desire is still strong but the body says this is getting tougher. I wrote this poem about my interior struggle.
The Sound of Settling
What is the sound of settling,
When you’re a vagabond?
Does it even exist?
Or just midnight mist,
Passing through
A road-weary brain.
Without warning.
Age creeps in,
Leaving you tired from
Constant moving;
But not wanting to stop.
The thought,
The thrill,
The wonder,
Is still there;
But bodies age,
When minds don’t.
What is the sound of settling,
When you’re a vagabond?
Knowing this is
The last move,
The last new place,
Now becoming old.
While wanting to see,
To be,
To experience
Something different,
Something new;
Knowing that being content
Means staying,
Sinking down roots,
Accepting sameness.
Yet, there is always
The call of gypsy horses
In the night.
Awe. I love that Greg! Lord bless you🥰
I love these thoughts.....Gypsy horses in the night, indeed!