Morrison’s Song of Solomon is a beautiful, painful, well-crafted narrative of, well, dark times in America’s past. I am not quite through with it yet, but I cannot praise it quite enough.

I laid it down on the table beside my reading chair and took Ladybug out to do her thing before our bedtime.

When I did, she and I remained outside for a few moments. As she went off under the trees to do her thing, I gazed at the moon high above the oaks.

And Psalm 8 ran through my soul.