Cozy is the sound of birds chirping amongst a frigidly cold morning.
It is the calming purr of the heat, blowing from the vent, warming our bodies without task.
Cozy is the cloud-like puff, billowing off a warm cup, aiding my cold cheeks.
It is the crackle and pop of the logs on the fire, warming our skin and our hearts.
Cozy is watching my children scurry around, snuggled securely in their favorite blankets.
It is beholding the world move slowly and hushed, from the safe perch of my window.
Cozy is, in Louisiana, the pitter-patter of rain coupled with the silent hope it magically turns to snow.
It is the sweet aromas that dance throughout my home, like sugarplum fairies in a dream.
Cozy is dimly lit rooms and brightly lit smiles.
It is anything that warms the heart, blankets the soul and recharges the mind.