Dance Of The Hares

Dance of the Hares Hair & Perfume Oil Wild rabbity musk, tender roots, & damp smoke drifting through echoing woods The air is still raw & chilly deep in the woods, under the towering trees, but a rustle in the underbrush hints at spring to come... Crows chatter faintly in the distance, & you scrunch further into your hiding place, pulling your jacket close around you against the chill seeping up through the ground. You can just smell smoke on the air, someone burning brush in the valley, & you wish for the warmth of that fire, but you are patient and still as the roots that plunge into the damp soil underneath you. Suddenly, a pair of long ears pops through the undergrowth, twitching like little brown radar antennae. There is a scuffling, a thumping, then one, two, three lithe brown rabbits scuttle into the clearing, sniffing at the tender shoots pushing up through wet leaves & scooting about in paroxysms, leaping into the air & over each other's backs, tumbling & snorting to shake off winter's chill & dive headlong into the electric joy of spring...