It would be like not smiling
when I step from stony shadows
into the slanted golden rays
of late autumn sun,
it’s that automatic
this longing to gush
I love you
each time I hear
the brilliance that shines
through your voice—
how is it that light in you
makes me feel warmer,
even as the dark deepens,
even as the cold promises
to get colder, much colder still.