It's full moon tonight. A violent-tinged moon in a lavender sky, but now the sun is gone and it's crisp, moon-white. Full moon, round and staring down with the waterless seas that look like eyes and a round, round mouth.

It's full moon.

It's the time of month where things happen. A fairy-ring just visible from a little girl's window, the brushing of fingers from a pair of young, star-crossed but moon-blessed lovers, a dancing, giggling party with dew-drops and toadstools and feathery butterfly wings with silver laughter...

It's a full moon, the moon of the mother-goddess and the moon of the wolves which howl and howl. Werewolves, human-formed by day but it's their moon and their time to hunt. Shut your doors and bar your windows and try not to hear those moon-inspired howls. It's a full moon, where 'loopy' 'lunatic' comes from and the full moon stirs the blood and sends the thoughts of men chaotic.

It's the full moon, and the cat by the window just licks her paw and rubs her ear and goes to find a mouse. A sleek, quiet hunter with glowing ears and soft paws, hunting by the light of her very own full moon.

In the morning, though, she will wake up in her bed and try and get the leaves out of her long blonde hair.