You’re looking at the Ordovician slant. This is the view that pulled at me forty-two years ago, when I stood on a terrace, the silence gathering full as a bell.

Look at how the ridges drop away into the Nashville Basin and the Highland Rim begins. The birds are carrying the liturgy right now. Do you hear the wood thrushes, cardinals, and Carolina wrens clearing the air before the world wakes up? Then the bluebirds chime in, with Northern Flickers, Song Sparrows, jays, and even a peacock.

There is no goodbye in a daybreak. There’s just the ancient eastern view, the slope, and the coneflowers waiting in the glade. And holy moments. Each new day is a homecoming.

I walk back to Mimi’s walnut desk with that morning light in my eyes and the architecture of the sky still holding me. I open my notebook. The ink knows exactly what to do.