'Happy Eostre'
Spring it was, in the day.
Sprang the hare, from here to there,
In the deep forest.
Alert she was, and stopped now and again,
Ears a-twitch, amongst the fen.
Three eggs she must find –
of colours lilac, cool blue and pale yellow.
To find these eggs, her mind was set.
None in the little cave, or old settlement,
None beneath the fallen tree trunk,
She hoped that in the water’s depths,
That none had sunk!
She cautiously approached close by,
To a group of men, weapons in hand,
Yet sat they talking, laughing away,
Then looking up, one started to say:
“Turn, look yonder – nay, quietly you must
Slowly now, for a hare I see –
But see how she looks, eyes staring at me.”
The hare’s eyes seemed to twinkle,
Such beauty in their penetrating amber stare,
“This handsome creature, she is no simple hare.”
She raises her body, ready to spring,
away from this place; no eggs here!
Before the men could do any more,
leapt she, from the place, with no fear.
Northward she turns,
Ahh, what’s this she sees?
The glint of an egg, on the ground, ’neath some trees.
She jumps forward, nose gently touching the egg –
and suddenly it is gone, with a twinkle of light.
Hare turns around – two more to find,
Eyes focused keenly, fault not her sight.
Quick is she, fleet of foot –
Long legs athletic, she manoeuvres around,
’Twixt trees, bracken, rocks, bushes and more,
keeping low to the ground.
She slows a bit, and looks ahead,
Amongst some stones –
Is that the second egg?
The stones fringe a narrow stream,
so she approaches cautiously,
up to the egg, light blue in colour,
Thank goodness it did not fall
into the water, sink below or wash away,
No, with the pebbles it quietly lay.
Nose pressed to it, once again it went.
I know not where these precious eggs are sent.
Deciding it best not to cross the stream,
The hare turns away – west, it seems.
One final egg, it must be near,
The hare will keep leaping on,
Her mission is oh so very clear.
Skirting some brambles,
ducking under fallen trees,
jumping over windy roots,
the forest goes on and on.
Enter a clearing, the sun shines so bright,
Dancing about overhead, birds in flight.
Many a man treads here,
And lies some unusually shaped stones
circled around for a purpose,
for which, no matter to the hare –
through more trees now she roams.
Her senses a-tingling,
She leaps over a large rock –
And on the other side,
Sits the final yellow egg.
Carefully she nuzzles it,
but away it does not go;
instead appear the two other eggs,
lying next to it, in a row.
The hare sits upright
and turns up her head,
And there sat on the rock,
with pretty flowers beginning to grow,
Is Eostre, the Spring goddess.
All is well.
Topic: Writing event #4: Easter (Read 1387 times)