Two Modes of Travel

In July of 2009,
I saw Frankfurt am Main,
Visited Weimar and Berlin,
Went to Warsaw, and in
Two days found myself in Krakow
(Via Czestochowa, of
Black Madonna fame, and Auschwitz).
Quickly through Slovakia, which,
Though picturesque & panoramic,
We tourists viewed in panic
Lest our dinner in Budapest
Should turn cold.  I didn’t rest
In Vienna, Austria, either,
Grabbing just one souvenir,
A weiner, and some beer
Before heading to Prague to hear
A recital of Strauss, etc.
In Rothenburg, a plethora
Of crafts and pastries met our eyes.
We yet again said our goodbyes,
And in the nick
Of time, Munich
Came into view: the Glockenspiel
In Marienplatz, the real deal,
Chimed, and charmed us; then
(Already?) Frankfurt again.
In the morning, to the airport—
Farewell, Frankfurt!
Oh, there’s Heathrow,
Just a stone’s throw
(Yes, it’s pertinent)
From the Continent.

In July of 2010,
I forsook travel; attempted Zen;
Took two weeks off from work,
Seeing neither carrier nor clerk,
Neither customer nor canine;
Stayed up late, awoke again at nine
After having gotten up at eight
(Everything could wait);
Wrote, reread, unwound whenever I pleased.
Time, this time, not distance, was the feast.
From my house’s patio,
Observing hares hop to and fro,
And crazy squirrels go,
Without apparent vertigo,
Up and down the maple tree
Was sight-seeing enough for me.
Another day, bicycling up a trail,
Leaving life’s mundane travail
Behind, the crunchy gravel
In that moment was all the travel
I needed or desired.
Stopped when I got tired
Of exercise, or too wired
From being required
To search for synonyms.
Sang some hymns—
Prolonged a hug—
Pulled the plug—
Ate whenever hungry—
Shaved when I felt scraggly—
Moved as if I were a snail
Browsing at a yard sale.
The clock did tick
And tock, but it had lost its kick,
Lacked its verve and grit and urgency.
Nothing then but tendency—
Molasseslike momentum—
Spun the atom