The Hare and The Stars

As the nights grow longer, and the winds grow colder, Hare readies herself out on the silver-shadowed land. The full moon rises, hovering high above, frosting all with her light, tendrils spreading like filigree ice. Hare feels the light on her fur, and begins to leap and jump in the air, her paws pushing her up off the frozen earth. She bounds higher and higher, body spinning, kicking, bending in greater and greater jumps. She twists and turns, gyres and gymbles, sways and leaps, until she takes off through the midnight air.

The glowing, pearly face of the moon smiles towards Hare as she heads ever upwards, winter winds tugging at her silver-brown body. She passes across the front of the moon, and as she does so, her beautiful brown fur frosts into pure snow white, hair by hair, rippling over her body like a gentle, icy breath. Hare kicks herself higher into the firmament, and as she arcs through the heavens, sprays of stars trail from her feet like ocean foam. They fall across the dark night sky, reflecting the light of the full moon.

Hare reaches the zenith of her leaping and then curves back towards the earth, in her new winter-white coat, trailing stars like a comet. As she lands, the stars fall in tiny, floating, icy flakes, falling as snow onto the silver-shadowed land, to settle in drifts and piles. The first snow of winter, bringing silent dreaming to the land.