He never gets tired of taking a deep breath

And sinking in that warm spring air

Smelling of morning dew and newly fallen rain.

 

He breathes in every few steps along his “path”

To keep that smile on his face alive.

 

Now his wanderlust is makes him walk with purpose in the woods

He longs to meet animals and say hello

Even if it means getting his hand almost bitten off

Or sprayed on with nature’s worst perfume.

 

He climbs high

To have his breath long more for that spring air

And for his body to react to it like a drug.

 

He swims in the too cold water

To get a rush,

Even though it will take him forever to dry off,

 

So he struts, 

carrying his clothes in the woods. 

 

This is what wanderlust can do to a man

Who gave it all away

To get away from it all.

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