Routes to roots

(Today's prompt from Writer's Digest was to write a voyage poem. It came on the heels of me putting in funding requests for three trips -- all work-related -- and updating my calendar with travel and work commitments through October. It seemed ironic that I no longer consider myself a traveler.)

A voyage poem.
It should be easy, only I don't do much voyaging anymore.
I moved three times in the first ten months of my life,
lived in thirteen different states to date.
By age 50 I had had forty different addresses, and several new area codes.
Then, the moving stopped.
I put down roots, and watched as my husband planted seeds that created crops we would eat.
Together we created a household with cats and chickens.
We began eating eggs fresh from the coop.
I started writing every morning and every night.
If I travel now, it is for work.
Yet in work comes excitement and energy.
The chance to drink coffee in an unfamiliar place,
to sleep in a bed in a room I didn't help clean,
to live on three changes of clothing for three months,
to walk all over the place like a nomad
looking for a place to put down roots.