I have become nomadic.
I move with a plan, but not with the intention to set down roots.
I used to plant myself.
Now, I look forward to the change in scenery.
The drier weather.
I must say goodbye to the ocean.
But I am nomadic.
Perhaps I will return.
I played with the positioning of each line. I wouldn’t quite call them stanzas, but I thought it’d be a nice way to match the physical text to the topic of the post 🙂