The goddess was sleeping within the cold earth, Waiting for the sounds that foretold the spring’s birth, The thump of the hares on the new fallen snow, Said life had awakened, in the soil below. Ostara she shook out her bonny red hair, And breathed in the frost, and tasted the cold air, But she spied a young sparrow, lying under a tree, Hatched out of it’s egg, too soon broken free. The heart of the goddess, was heavy and torn, Had she slept in too late, that bright star of the morn, She took the limp sparrow, into her warm hand, And looked out upon awakening land. Your wings I can’t mend, from the cold they are bare, But I’ll give you the form of a swift running hare, Swapping feathers for fur, you will stay safe and warm, In your nest on the ground in the harsh winter storm. And once every year, when the spring voice is heard, You will lay a sweet egg, just as you were a bird, And in all of the world, my praises they’ll sing, For the merciful goddess that brings in the spring.