“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