Indifference

For many years I have gazed

at the painting you did for me,

telling me that if I should ever

decide to come back,

I could use  your mother’s

address  hidden inside

the frame to contact you.

I’ve never looked

I’m afraid. 

       Every August when I return from Texas, I find the forest about my home curiously silent.  When I leave in mid-July the forest is filled with bird song.  The main function of bird song is to establish territories and attract mates.  The singing can be quite frantic in the Spring and early Summer, but by late summer it is pretty much all established–the territories, the mates, the young raised.  Something seems missing in these quiet woods, but I’m afraid that I must wait until next Spring to get it back.