Here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago for my daughter Jenny, now 18, when she was learning to drive. This “sliver of a silver crescent” moon has since become “our thing,” and whenever either of us sees it (I have no idea when or how often the moon takes this shape…) we call each other. I’ve come to love the moment when my phone rings and I hear Jenny’s voice say, “Daddy, look in the sky! It’s our …