Memory is gratitude of the heart
I found your love at the old cranberry bog
And then again walking the shore of Lake Michigan. It was there again upon the White River on a cold Winters day....the sun glinting on the water. Two tracking the National forest. Savoring wild rice. Splitting wood with Bill.
Sunrise, sunset. Sunday Mass. The Fred wave. The Fred dance. I will sing to you the first day of Spring....
Blessed to be your Daughter