Temperance

Sagittarius draws its long bow across today, and Temperance stands at the water's edge with a foot in each element — one on stone, one in the current. This is the day the mix is found by degrees, not decided. Pour slowly. Let the fire you carry meet the cool of waiting and become something drinkable. The gift is proportion: a steadier hand, a voice that neither floods nor withholds. The cost is speed. What you would finish by dusk may ask for dusk and dawn both, and patience is not a passive thing — it burns quietly, and you feel it burning. Aim far. Move once, and rightly.

Today the archer's arrow leaves the bow before the aim is settled. Something in you wants the mixture finished now — the wine poured whole, the wound healed by noon — and Sagittarius, that far-flung fire, lends its restlessness to the pouring hand. You may find the day runs too hot in one hour and dry in the next, feast and famine trading places. The gift hidden here is diagnosis: excess shows you exactly where the measure slipped. The cost is patience, which cannot be hurried and will ask for the afternoon. Let one thing steep untouched. The blend keeps its own hours, not yours.