Where Are You?

It's May.  

You left in October - before the Maples reached their Fall brilliance.  Why?

Before the hummers began their migration south. 

The winds slowly shifted to the North.  The Loons, that could, flew to the coast. 

The deep freeze came and the woods went quiet.

Gone the stomping feet.  The slamming screen door but a memory.  Pillow talk.

Bliss.  

Then the snows came and covered the forest floor and banked up my stone sides.
It's May.  You are late.  

Things need doing.  And fixing.  The hot water heater longs to heat
Some shutters have failed - too frail to with stand the winter winds.

The Chickadees are here.  The daffodils are up.  The grass has sprung.  The Lilacs are blooming.
Where are you?
The mice ran amok all winter.