In the sixth month,

A stranger came to town

Not wearing a costume of feathers

Only traveling shoes, a dusty tunic

And a memorized message

Told to him when the world first sounded

From a spoken word.

 

He found who he was looking for,

Told her what he had to,

And left behind the promise

Of two more strangers to come,

One, a thunderhead

To overshadow;

The other, lightening

To dance on the ground

For a time,

Igniting the dried vines and dead cypresses

Before leaping back to the sky.

 

Now we tell a new story

that begins this way:

A man went on a journey.