Late-night drive home from the airport last night after five days away. Too unsettled to sleep at first, despite consecutive nights of fitful half-rest, so when I finally lost consciousness around 4:00 a.m., pinioned down by the heavy muscular wedges of lightly snoring cats, I fell into a stunned oblivion. Without obligation. Without wants.

All day long I fretted and obsessed over the too-many things I needed to get done and the too-little progress being made.

All day long should played an intricately deliberate and drawn-out game of chess with want.

Finally, late in the afternoon, I walked down to the river. Maybe I wanted to see if I could find something like my own reflection there. Or maybe I thought I might find you among the bare and feral trees, the laughing too-blue sky instead?

Heavy ambered wedges of sunlight honeycombing down through the trees like dripping trickles of honey, snow dissolving like sugar in hot tea. I melt like a candy lozenge aching behind the teeth.

I am hungry for sweetness: chewy cranberries, honey-roasted slivers of almond in the salad. Sticky dates smeared in mascarpone to sweeten my tongue. I will be a sweet-talker. A honey-tongued devil.

Haven't you missed me?

You, of course (it hardly goes without saying) are always missed . . . even when you haven't gone anywhere.

I read Year of the Snake again while you were missing. I feels rude to substitute words on a page for you... but also just right.

Scottm! You sweet talker!