Gram's Hands
Gram’s hands speak of warmth
So soft-my eyes, sorrow lade
When the love has left.
Greatest Gifts
Rolling hills are blanketed with lush green grass, the fields are like that of a quilt with patches of corn and soybeans sewn in with care. The full expanse of the blue skies kisses the tops of the trees. Dirt roads hold a promise of isolation from everything. Rich black dirt is soft among your fingers. Cattle and horses decorate the fields like checkers on a checker board. White puffy clouds are like cotton candy. At a young age, my grandmother taught me to look out the window and to see what I could see. Helping me notice God's creations is the best gift I've ever been given.
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