An orchestra of whiskers frisson in anticipation as dusk washes across the hushed meadow. A distant church tower intones the hour; the ballet begins. The cohort whisper through embroidered curtains and take their place centre stage. With a hop, a skip and a clutch of cowslip they entertain until a glimmer of snowy tail and a twitch of white stocking thigh are all that remain in the dark. In deep sleep a little down the lane, the memory of rabbit haunts the charcoal nose of a beagle and with a mere wriggle of toes she too is dancing with them.
Sent as an email to a Beagle living on the other side of the world. A bedtime tail.