Rain skitters on the window in plinking bursts.
There is a tiny blink of sunshine on the horizon,
But it doesn’t stop the splishing, spitting and splashing of rain down the drainpipes.
The road is slick and its not very warm, out there.
But we are,
Nestled under blankets with cushions cocooning us, we eat popcorn.
We snuggle in front of the fire which pops, crackles and snaps, like the cereal,
As tiny animals in a burrow,
We entwine limbs closely, huddled.
Meanwhile, the birds do the same.
Nesting and waiting for the late cold to leave,
And the even later spring to arrive.
We are warm,
We are comforted,
We are snug.
Rain plops gently on rooftops.