(Apologies in advance to Elizabeth Barrett Browning.)
How do I love thee, group travel? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My patience can reach, when feeling ready for flight
To the ends of being and my own space.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by day or by night.
I love thee freely, as egos strive for right;
I love thee purely, as others yearn for praise.
I love thee with a passion of those obtuse
Of the many griefs, and yet my optimistic faith.
I love thee with a sanity I seem to lose
Like my lost cohort. I love thee with the death
Of smiles, irritations are quite rife; and, if I choose,
I shall but love thee better after I take a breath.