The sky folds into paper thin, each crease a trace of storms within. Roots beneath the ground arise, whispering of forests to the skies. A lantern sways, its flame will chase, turning shadows into paths of lace. Constellations sing and guide, echoing dreams where hopes reside. You are the tide’s unseen hand, building bridges from salt and sand. Though footprints fade, You will stay. May I remember Your grace each day. [AI guided poem]
There is a new video letter up on my silly, little YouTube channel. These are made for my grandchildren, but anyone is free to watch. They are meant to tell a little of my life in Brazil and what has happened over the month. January was an usually warm month in our part of Bahia with the threat of thunderstorms from time to time, but little to no rain. Northeast Brazilians know that if no rain comes in January, it is a bad sign of more drought to come. We pray for rain to come soon.