Cat's Fur Sun's Fog.

 The warm fire crowds out the fog.

The fog, cold and dreary, is after me.

It rules the night, creeps in and around every corner.

But it stops at the door.

Fire keeps fog's cold breath from me.

The fog and I have an agreement.

He controls the tulle.

I, the hearth.

Fog devils the cats.

Their fur is wet.

They know the silent loneliness.

They retreat from the white prison

They chose the hearth with me.

Perhaps the cats do indeed love me.

Perhaps they hate the fog more.

Short days and long fog.

It is the darkness time.

Hibernation cats and man.

Firewood, stored sunshine.