Cold days and snowy nights dissolve into the glow when we come home from the sweater weather. In from the cozy autumn day. In from a day in which sunlight dappled the tree's bark like the zig-zagged icing and french dough. A day of mittens so only your thumbs protrude. A day like kittens which tumble in happiness and innocence. Into the oak, with the window in which tear drops chase themselves away down the pane and the cool air is made hot with cocoa frothy cream and pumpkin. We smoke on curled cinnamon sticks which splinter like burnt logs on an fire of embers. The silhouettes of our shadows catch on the horizon as we watch the spectrum scatter from the warm cream to the dusty pumpkin to cocoa.