“Forget not that the Earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”–Khalil Gibran, The Prophet
I was either seventeen (17) or eighteen (18), when my paternal grandmother, offered to me a much worn red, leather-bound book, with thin onionskin pages and a red silk ribbon for a bookmarker.
She told me how much she loved the tiny book and thought that I (possibly) might like it also.
She was so right. I did love the book and I still do! The book is The Prophet, By Khalil Gibran.
Winter is heavy here now..the clouds cover us like a tomb, but the sinking away of the sun lights those very same clouds; showing dark and dreary really isn’t totally dark and dreary.
Snow is on its way. The Moon tells us so.
The heavens are brimming with clouds, but still…in a wee break; the moon sits quietly in a moisture-laden circle of rainbows.
From my world to your heart, Linda