The leaves have fallen from the maples and the oaks, and now they are nothing more than a heap of crooked limbs just sitting there looking like death. Mourning their loss. Hoping for spring. Continue reading “Praise in the Winter”
by Rebekah T. Durham
The leaves have fallen from the maples and the oaks, and now they are nothing more than a heap of crooked limbs just sitting there looking like death. Mourning their loss. Hoping for spring. Continue reading “Praise in the Winter”
