Smokies rolling down the holler,
moonlight drips on kudzu vine;
I still hear your bare feet whisper,
soft as pine–needle time.
Fireflies spell our secret,
five quick blinks then gone;
I keep that code in my pocket,
strike a spark, breathe you on.
Crickets count every promise
we never voiced out loud;
hills hold their echo, darling,
in midnight’s blue-jean cloud.