On the path of rain. Was it a thousand years ago or yesterday people gathered on roof tops and waited for the ceremony to begin? Traditions continue; the songs and prayers; the ceremony for rain and the fields of corn....feathers touch appeased snakes in the sacred space of corn meal ; the plaza full of grandparents holding babies; Hopi Homies; young people and old; extended families gather close; long shadows play and light dances on the Katchinas; The Sacred mountain in the distance healing from fire and rain is a shade of lavender blue - modern and ancient times merge along the horizon with clouds forming. Are they more beautiful than I remember? because I am more aware of them? or because I know clouds know no borders. I think of all the places I've been and seen; the stories of the plumed serpent compelling me further south to lands unknown; I stood in front of the Temple of the Serpent and climb the Temple of the Sun. I reflect on my winter's journey. Memories of talking with medicine people selling tourist trinkets and making altars on the corner of the bustling Zocolo of Mexico City. I felt so far from home as I knew it and yet it's all connected to the story of Tiyo, the Hopi man who went on the journey through Grand Canyon all the way to the Red City to the south-to help his people in a time of drought. How is it we're so connected by technology and yet feel compelled to create walls? and disconnected from our neighbors? those who live next door and who are our neighboring countries. The Ramamuri dance their Yamari and keep to their traditions as do the Hopis- Copper Canyon, the Mesas, Arizona, Chihuahua. There is a mystery enduring and I pray for peace, love, and understanding. I am grateful for the journey and to share what I've seen and felt. A song of soft rain. The snakes carry the prayers to the earth and the rain clouds come.