The Snow

A cold wind howls against my window.

I look up at the white blanket that covers my back yard. I am glad that I’m inside.

The bright lights that fill in the dark holes of my Christmas tree light up most of the dark room. The flickering fire casts shadows of the couch and the candles that take up most of my large living room.

The warth of the room is condenced at my feet with my two great danes. Marble is curled up on her brown blanket. She is peaceful and calm and silent. Her fur is soft and rough at the same time. Petra is stretched across the hard-wood floor. Her paws make periodic taps on the floor as she chases her dreams.

The smell of ginger bread baking in the next room seems to arouse the dogs’ senses. Marble slowly rises from her pillow on the floor and crawls up onto the couch next to me.

I take a sip from my mug of cider. The hot apple flavor soothes my throat and the cinnamon delights my taste buds. I glance again out the window as I stroke Marble. And I sigh.

It is Christmas.