It is night and the half light of the half moon silvers puddles and pools. The wind is fierce, not cold but fierce. She blows and howls her song across the land and right on the edge of hearing she carries fox howls.
In the dark she plays with the golden gorse and dances in the lace fringed branches of the ash tree, no longer showing winter bones against the clouded sky, but clothed in new leaves.
It is night and darkness dances with the wind. Clouds sail fast across the rain bruised sky and throw their heavy cargo to the earth with a music that counters the song of the wind, the call of the foxes, the bleating of sheep and the distant dog bark.
It is night and we curl together in warm places and dream our dreams.