Into the Dreamtime

I saw the Lesser Striped Swallows leave this morning.

An entire flock of them, passing overhead as I stood (you guessed it) on the smokers' balcony in the early dawn.Streaming their delicate tails behind them they were headed almost directly North - I wished them safe passage and hoped like Hel they wouldn't encounter too many cell phone masts along the way.

The House Martins, in contrast, were still wheeling and barrel-rolling over the food remnants thrown out by the cafe downstairs - we still have the pleasure of their company for a while, it seems.

The mornings are frosty in Gauteng and my pack of hounds are reluctant to get up from their bed at half past three, but the afternoons have turned high, blue and cloudless. Gorgeous.

I'm so proud of my compatriots. In stark contrast to their elected representatives, they have shut down China's efforts to aid Mugabe's genocidal tendencies in Zimbabwe.
Well done, the Unions, the Church leaders and the common folk of this land. Now, if we could just get rid of those brain dead power addicted politicians - ah, but I dream.

Which is appropriate for the time of year, I suppose.
My own observation of Samhain is just nine days away -that of my coreligionists about four - and the veil between here and there, between then and now, between me and the rest of me is growing palpably thin.

I feel I could just reach out an arm, right now, and wet it in the stream which runs through and between the Worlds. The balance is shifting and I'm having to move my own feet a little to stay upright. But it's all good. I'm starting to feel the universe I've known for 48 years peel back like an unfolding flower. What will be revealed in its place?