Even the nandina is bowed in prayer.
The pines are hushed, drooping to shrink from the cold.
All wants to return in time when late summer breezes tickled and fluttered leaves and blades.
To a time when color was king . . .
To a time when warmth invaded the bones . . .
Dreaming of cattails and broom sage . . .
But . . . the time has gone.
We dream to enjoy once more. . . Let us not forget who has given us every day, as He sees fitting for us.
I thank God and His Son Jesus for every breath, every step, and every day. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
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