The wind struggles against the glass,
Determined to catch us in her cold embrace at last.
We just curl closer to the fire,
Warming a new side as we begin to perspire.
The night is dark but we are warm –
A paradox in autumn’s arms.
I hear a sigh somewhere to the left,
And turn to see my dog at rest.
His paws, they curl
His eyes, like pearls,
And I feel a sweet contented rush,
As the room falls into a quiet hush.