Nesting dreams always come, for me, with the onset of winter - no exception this year.

Tonight, the nest was a capsule, cloaked and invisible from ground and air, suspended some two hundred feet in the sky above my home town. The capsule had a large panoramic window that took up most of the fore section; most of the interior was bed, the walls lined with more soft, warm fabric. There was enough space for two people to recline comfortably, watching and listening to the storm, looking up at the grey, roiling sky as the rains poured down on the glass.

When I awoke, the rain was pouring on the window for real.

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