A banner appears on the screen
congratulating me. As of yesterday
ten thousand times
somebody read these poems.
Ten thousand. Who could imagine
A number that large?
In other news, also yesterday
low clouds hooked
lace through the trees
Then
tall and antlered, he stepped
slowly towards and across the road
not bothering to meet our peasant eyes
so accustomed to the admiring, fearful
way we gaze at forest royalty
And then there is now—when I
write the words, stir their places on
the page while coffee brews
full moon shines through
and the restless puppy circles,
settles and I try not to make any
Interesting Noises so I can finish
this poem, for reader number
ten thousand
and one
Puff Of Smoke Poems 
Bravo