Ah, the poetry. It has called me back, over the swamplands and plowed fields of the vast, cavernous spaces known as the Southeast. It's even healed my computer, which has been rather angry of late.
You seek to know where I have fled?
I tell you, do not seek with dread.
Returned I have, to liven gloom,
And greet you happ'ly, Nomdeplume.
"Wilkins, after all these years, are you trying to be funny?"