This January day in Georgia started with sheets of sideways rain and rolls of thunder, but ended with gentle, clear sunlight.

Trees crowd the sky like silent judges in the pale orange and blue dusk. The moon, waxing gibbous.

I pause a moment at the curb before taking the mail from the box and notice the soft, damp air on my face.

On the walk back down the driveway I see the white lights dotting the Norfolk pine in the window.

Mindfulness Writing, Small Stones #11,
Writing Our Way Home.


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