Good Mourning

Short and bittersweet

I was awakened when a wave of heavy rain swept across the roof. I greeted our cat and engaged in our daily ritual. The sky wept like the depth within me did last night. A heavy residual left me feeling more of that today.

Affirmations were interrupted by the song of a duck, whose voice echoed in the valley, alarm and dread carried in between the rain drops.

“Good mourning,” she said, and then she disappeared into the mist.

I sipped my coffee, certain that the world would return tomorrow, as would all that comes with it. Mourning, indeed.