Updated: Aug 25, 2021
The Natives have come.
We all thought it was just a breeze passing ; it was so quiet as they set up their tents. The leaves are burnt yellow and the larger leaves are burning from Red to Orange.
All the birds are speaking freely; spreading the stories from the True ones that have landed.
Oh , how they came flooding from the sun down through the hills, and into the stream.
This San Francisco Indian summer seems as if every night the moon glows with the Son within her. All is sweet with every breath when Seasons rain with as much thickness as these last 70 days. The lightening was the path and although I ran up the well lit stream. screaming for the blessings to fall upon my head. Wiping the water off of my face, I try not to miss the crashing light between the high stars.
Aren’t they fancy? Aren’t they just so Worthy to come home with brighter whirlwinds than Enochs'! The Ocean couldn’t even keep her clothes : In some places, Mother Earth is hiding her Ice while in others there is much news about Her hot flashes or 'fire hurricanes'. Who says you can't do it all at once?
Goodness and Blessings can appear as something totally different ; depending on Who can read and What there is to be Known.
To be in a better position to accept, or yet perhaps to endure and stumble upon the Infinite.
Ah ; October, Have we not loved you in a thousand days of the Century.
- VS. 00