Monday.

Bags over my shoulder, slacks and sleeves on

Coffee, keys, and phone in hand.

I leave through the back door and swiftly walk into the thick Georgia August air

Then pivot to be sure my little-no-so-little is following close behind,

Like a duckling.

As I turn back toward the house I am face to face with a bright presence

of peace and pause.

A distant but familiar grin haloing just above the peak of our home.

The waxing crescent moons hangs like a hammock when it sets and earthshine reveals the moon’s full form.

Meanwhile the duckling sits patiently in the truck.