Dear Reader,

Hello you, the light
of my life. These words scamper
into the clearings

you make just as you
are, and I am a hanger
on, flapping in time

to rhythms the leaves
of the trees encircling you
make in the gusts of

language and silence.
Shadows these words make flutter
in bodies—mine, yours.

The cosmos flickers
between us, a campfire in
the vast, black forest.

Roy Herndon Smith