The Journey Is Home

Visitor from the heartland

To learn an exotic tongue

In Green Mountain shadows,

Land of Abenaki and Mohawk,

Maple syrup, covered bridges

Walleye. and granite rock.

Learned, helpful masters

Lecturing on an Edo backwoods,

Youthful, randy companions

Primed for skinny dips in the river,

A smart, enchanting lady

Companion for late study sessions.

In driving rain on campus glade,

Umbrella offered, head on shoulder,

Absorbing the momentous moment,

She ultimately came to realize

I was the one giving the lesson –

Wouldn’t do something I couldn’t.

“You’re not like the other guys.”

“I guess I am someone otherwise.

The ban on my finger rings true.

I must carry on and bid adieu.”

Emotion brought to the brink,

What would Master Bashō think?

– 毎日が旅であり、旅が住いなのだ
Every day is a journey. The journey itself is home.

© 1976, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.