Thanksgiving
The year has turned its circle,
The seasons come and go.
The harvest all is gathered in
And chilly north winds blow.
Orchards have shared their treasures,
The fields, their yellow grain,
So open wide the doorway~
Thanksgiving comes again
Blessings to all the list members from your ListMom
Rooting in the past, Kathie
The Lord prefers common-looking people.
That is why he makes so many of them. ~Abe Lincoln