mourning absences

i've just returned, smelling of bug spray and campfires, from a week in the adirondack woods. my clothes have been laundered, my pack has been returned to the closet, and the dirt from my feet has been washed down the drain. though my physical body has quickly acclimated itself to its normal routines and comforts, my head
and my heart remain distant and burdened.

i'm struggling for more, but its absent.
k