An Overdue Poem

should I tell you
how like any other squirrel
I vanished come winter--

but spring has [sprung too cliche?] come
(psst, past),
and I dashed
across the yellow mustard
fields of foreign flaring flowers
sandwiched fates
to mail you a post card.

O fiend not my friend!
I shall soon return to you and
stay through the winter.