“We cannot direct the winds, but.. We can adjust our Sails”
Courtesy to Anthony Wilson
That's what is all about:
A Cap Jib* in the brisk,"Avoir le vent-en- poupe", in French
- a jib set on a stay to a bowsprit cap, astern._Dictionaries
Have you ever felt the brisk on you face,
the sun burning your skin,
the specks of sea-salt in your hair.
And its taste on your lips; off the Grand Large,
the offing is bleeding, It says it low
can you hear it?
I’m calling you.
At a distance, a boat,
Had blown her toot.
Sailing is in the air
The ocean crushing at your feet,
ebb and flow,
Has skimmed his batter
in begging you.
can’t you see it!
What’s the matter with you?
what are you waiting for_
If that was given to me to love again
I would’ve been a skipper,
Then that, I want no more
“So throw off the bowlines, and Sail away from the safe harbor.” _Mark Twain
It is refreshing, when you discover that writers, poets, and artists, and viewers like you as well, dropped a” like” on your post, and are following your blog, and eventually stopped by now and then, so I want to thank you for that, extra-large. And it’s encourage me to persevere on writing. To the ultimate a point in a journey of inspiration, for an autodidact like me, of becoming a writer. So, in that precise instant, I gave up on essays, I made decision, to become a writer, thanks to all of you, the little few that have clicked on the Like/Follow button, whom I consider being my critics, in that regard.
Thank you
Gimme Shelter, I am writing under the Shelterings Skies 
