Under the Full Moon

Under the full moon the wild cat shines. It knows it is time. The changing of the seasons has come with heavy rains this time and winter has finally begun.

It lives in a forest that, though near the cities, lies protected from all forms of contact with “human civilization”, as the oddly hairless bipeds tend to call it.

It lives among leaves and trees and cannot be easily perceived, for it is only when the moon shines that it can really be seen.

And I say ‘seen’ though I do not really mean it. For it is glimmers of it they see- the glasseyed bipeds. Shadows of it. Shapeshifting forms of color and dropplets of light. A mere ghost of the magestic reality of this feline creature in the darkness of the night.

But tonight is a lucky time for mankind. With the rain pouring on a full moon night, try it as it may to hide, the colors of its fur will reflect the glimers of the moonlight and galaxies in the sky, sharper and brighter than in any other moment in time.

But as brightly as it may shine, and as gloriously as it could be perceived on this, a rainy full moon night, the bipeds tend to from the rain hide. And so, with more freedom than if it were broad day light and it was fully invisible to the bipeds’ eye, the feline creature shall play and run and hide and with it’s offspring have the most wonderful and playful of full moon nights.

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