A quiet grove stands, dappled in sunlight, surrounded by a loop of broken road.
A pond and woods sit unkempt and still, with no sounds of adventure.
A wind whistles past the doghouse, but no longer past the dog.
I am home - after years away. No one can tell me where it went.
This work is future-autobiographical. I have been away from America for 5 years, and I will be unable to return until a year from now.
Thanks to @geekorner, @vitkolesnik, @liverussian for their comments and critiques and for The Isle of Write for a place to gather and talk.
Recent works:
art courtesy of @PegasusPhysics