On my walk today, the song "Arms of a Woman" by Amos Lee kept running through my head. I was thinking about the flowers and how they are loved and protected by the leaves. The deep greens and smooth shapes have the pleasure of growing alongside such beauty. The purples and yellows are wrapped gently in the arms of leaves.
Who are we the leaves for? Whose arms are holding us? Do we let them?Can we be our own leaves? Wrapped in self-love and our naked arms?
Try it. You may just find some comfort there...
