The wind is soft,
The grass is low.
Beneath the sun of all our sorrows.
How long we wait for the day,
not a moment to waste before we sleigh.
Look now, oh friends!
For we have found our journey's end.
excerpt from Ch. 2, in a book being written by Caleb Smith ...the words just flowed from his lips to my ears as he asked, 'what do you think, mom?'