Owl's Starry Night
Smells Like: Oak moss on tree branches, swaying evergreen boughs, glowing with moonlight and luminescent amber.
The moon rises over a field of snow, casting silvery light over the sleeping world. All is silent other than the whisper of a gentle breeze rustling the bare branches of the woodland trees.
A cloud drifts across a sky alight with a million stars, each twinkling in cold white light.
In the heart of the forest grows the largest and oldest oak tree. In its gnarled branches, owl sits, his golden eyes taking in the silence and the stars. His brown feathers protect him from the cold that surrounds him.
He basks in the moonlight, his thoughts far away, his heart among the stars.