Blessed Leo, under the creaking sign of the old scarecrow, your lion’s courage will be pushed to the ragged edges today. Cornfields, whispering secrets known only to the wind and the lonely crows, are a space for you to find your ancient heart. Be wary, for the core of your fiery spirit might be shaken as the skies darken and autumn rots the harvest’s remains on the vine. The faces in the gnarled tree trunks are more than just the curlicues of nature, as they watch your path with a silent foreboding; their sight is imbued with malevolent wisdom and inscrutable knowledge.
Everyone carries a lantern in these shriveled days, some lit by feigned joy, others by veiled despair. Yours Leo, flickers with an uneasy passion which is vivid but disquieting. The moon, wearing a shroud, will cast ominous shadows that will dance by your side. The screech of a barn owl, the chills running down your spine, even the rustling of dried leaves beneath your boots, all are echoes meeting you from the realms your logic disclaims. The whispers from the ancient stones lining your path will resound and merge with your heartbeat, disturbing your senses. So today, you will walk the boundary lines, trembling but unbroken, through a world properly aligned with this season of withering, skeletal beauty. But always remember Leo, the courage embodied in your sign will pull you through the spectral fog.
