Where are you.

Brooding slabs of wind and water hover. 
From sky to ground all is gray.
You aren’t here but I hike anyway.

The wind whips up and down, inside out.
It bends and bows. The tallest trees concede and duck.
And a slingshot gust slaps my face. 
You aren’t here. I hike anyway.

Sheltered by a canopy of nearly bare branches
The dusky trail glistens with yellow leaves.
Looks like a million gold coins I want to tell you 
But you’re not here.

The winds calm. 
So unexpected.
The sun parts the clouds and rain-drenched rays sweep the gray away. 
But you aren’t here.

Then I remember the times you were.