Wandering Man

I am a wandering man,
Traveled far across this land. 
Felt feet bare in the sand,
From the Keys to Redwood stand. 

World wandering fit my plans.
So I traveled to exotic lands.
Savoring cultures rich and unique,
New language from which to speak.

Crossing cultures on my way,
It's our sameness that held sway. 
A universal language that I heard,
We are the same flock of bird. 

Traveling science with my mind,
There are insights that I find. 
Some are good and some are not. 
But life is not a good book's plot. 

My days of walking are long over,
Driving still smell sweet cut clover. 
But with this mouse I'll travel on. 
Over the Internet until I'm gone. 

So when this mouse arm gives out.
And I grow too weak to shout.
I’ll travel on in my mind,
A wealth of memories there I’ll find. 

My 57 Desoto at Stanford in 1966


More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel

Copyright 2005 © Ronald W. Hull


My rusted-out 57 Desoto at Yellowstone in 1966.