“Where are you going on your sabbatical?”
I’m often asked, by those who think it dull
To stay at home and walk the neighborhood.
The need I feel is not well understood.
Sometimes I claim I’m like Thoreau, who said,
“I’ve traveled far in Concord.” In my head
I journey wide with book or pad in hand:
It’s leisure that I need and nothing planned.
The world I range lies in my blissful mind
Where wit and bright imagination find
New vistas of ideas and fantasies
With prospects of unviewed realities.
They see me here, as if in this dimension,
Though I’m somewhere beyond their comprehension.