Journey  out today. Already missing
Familiar sounds of morning bird,
Coffee pot and cat’s purr.

Plane roar and passenger hum
Traffic growl, and elevator whine
Poor substitutes for home comforts.

Vacation it is called and so very
Right. We vacate familiar, cozy,
Safe for sterner far flung climes.

Marco Polo or Bourdain, I’ll never be.
I travel with duress, distress, little rest.
Soaring with the pigeon for my lost roost.

Ah, but the return is sweet, home
Waits quiet and empty for the weary,
Recovering from the  rigors of R and R.

( Many thanks for all the encouraging comments, to those who work so hard
to make this happen and the community of writers who share with all of us the fruits of their creativity and dedication to this art.)