We had a small fire tonight,
just RW and I.
The animals leaned into the warmth,
Mister Pinkerton draped himself across my knees like a rumbling snow panther,
and the sky was nightly glowing.
We whispered plans,
we sipped our drams
and the scent of sage was sweeping by like satin ribbons on slim anchors.
We hope your Sunday evening has been just as warm and crackly.
xx
Mister and Missus Plume