“I’m going to close up the chickens,” I say. Fate and Zinnia run to the door waiting to go out with me. Fate runs down the steps straight to the barnyard gate. Zinnia hops off the porch landing with an ungraceful thud and chases a rabbit or waits for me at the coop.
I look up to find the moon.
Tonight it was easy. All but full, she rose over the barn her light glinting off the roof and giving definition to the clouds around her.
I always say hello, sometimes out loud and other times in silent admiration.
A quiet cooing comes from the chicken coop as close the door. I say good night to the chickens.
Then yell for the dogs to come. I often have to call more than once. Zinnia always comes first with Fate following reluctantly.