Winter Writings: Day 25

Rain drums a 4 beat rhythm on the roof.
Soggy birds huddle in the bare branched trees
trying to stay dry by squeezing between raindrops
as they fall and gather in swollen pewter puddles.
The world wears a grey mantle of clouds
obscuring the colors of life.

But I am curled up by the fire
in the warm colors of my nest,
snug under a mountain of down,
reading a story of yellow sun
and ocean waves
and a scallop in the sand.

And for a moment,
I escape the winter gloom
and become a hot August day.