Beautiful, just.

Inside: Warm fire burning, small lights like stars in a green tree, cat curl heaven and a fur pile purr.
Outside: The cold taste of winter, distant dog bark, chill breeze from the south and a rain of falling stars.

All evening and into the night we lay across sofas, curled in laps. Hands stroked us as we dreamed. The fire so warm and all so glad that all of the chaos and upheaval of the long year had gone and peace had returned to this quiet household of cats, dogs and the two legs.
Then we peeled ourselves away and out and last night so many stars fell, some brief in their final light show, some arcing bright across the darkest sky to light a trail. It seemed as if they fell to a secret music that only we could hear. So many that if you wished on every one you would have run out of wishes and still had stars to spare.