Hello, God. It's me, Mara.

You know, Lord, it's great to come across something so neat about rain - how it often begins with a sharp patter, but when snow comes, it usually comes very softly. Can't we all just see the picture: the wind brushing up the clouds, the brook held down by ice, and then the sudden coming of the "white bees of the moon?" Just sharing a poem about all that written by Joseph Auslander:

"The clouds were all brushed up and back The wrong way by the wind; The trees were attitudes on black; The brooks were disciplined.

"Then soft as spider on a shelf, Or satin mouse at birth. Or as a pigeon lends itse...