Boonville Countdown: 44 days

Edna St. Vincent Millay photographed by Arnold Genthe, 1918

I love to travel. I fear isolation.

A few years ago I took a two-week solo trip up to the "Downeast" section of Maine. I was staying in a very lovely and lonely part of Cobscook Bay State Park when I decided to take a late-night drive. By this time I was sick of my selection of Cd's and switched over to the radio. This was the exact moment I was introduced to Edna St. Vincent Millay, a wonderful American poet Born in 1892. For the next hour I was transported into Edna's beautiful world. I quickly found myself in awe of her talent and envious of her life.

In just 44 days, traveling and Isolation will become a standard part of my life. I will be sure to have a collection of Edna St. Vincent Millay's poetry by my side.

"Travel"
Edna St. Vincent Millay

THE railroad track is miles away,

And the day is loud with voices speaking,

Yet there isn't a train goes by all day

But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,

Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see its cinders red on the sky,

And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with the friends I make,

And better friends I'll not be knowing;

Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,

No matter where it's going.