The rain outside fell steadily, drenching the trees, and soil below, creating little streams, and washing away the dust and dirt of so many months past. No more than a whisper of wind, rustled the dripping leaves, and all around, the world was silent, save for the magickal sound, of rain. Hours passed by, the sky grew dark, and all around the bustle of homes began. Windows and curtains were shut and drawn, and in the dying light, the gentle ebb of wood stove smoke, could be seen rising from above the forest abodes. Time moved on, and the fresh smell of pine from the trees, mixed with the rain and smoke, picked up the scent of food being cooked, warm, home cooked meals, fitting for the storm all around. Beans cooked on the fire, corn bread and soup, hot sandwiches and cider, and cocoa to boot. The woods grew thick with their collective aromas, until at last the first lights, began to click off. At first, one home, and then two, more and more followed, until at last, the world, was completely dark. And the tap, tap, tap of rain, finally began to die away, ever so slowly. So slowly it went, that had one even been awake, they never would have noticed, until it was gone. The leaves grew quiet, and save for the last, little drips, the world was calm.
The night darkened even further, and with the rain now long gone, the temperature, dropped. Like a stone into water. A fragile frost began to form along the rims of the tree's leaves, and the grass below, grew white, yet still the world was dark. From far above, the cloud rolled by, bearing one final gift, for the world below. At last, the first speck of white, was seen. Twirling, ever so softly slowly, from the sky, swaying, this way, and that, before finally settling on a lone blade of frozen grass, on the very tip.
Hundreds more fell from the sky, like stars returning to retrieve their fallen brethren. The silence was broken only by a gentle.. pat...pat....pat... As the flakes slowly blanketed the world in snow. The grass soon disappeared, and the treetops turned white, followed at last by the roofs of all the homes, leaving only a small hole, where the chimney lay. At last, the world was clean, buried in a sheet of pure white, and at last, the clouds began to part. Revealing behind their shadowy veil, the full, November moon, the moon, made of snow.
Merry Meet, Merry Part, And Merry Meet again
The clouds passed away, and at last, the moon was free, allowed to turn her gaze on the world below, and see what had been given to her. The ground shone white, beneath her cool, blue rays. And every small crystal of snow, like diamonds in the sea of the sky, reflected. The trees glistened, and the world shone, anew.