Blue topically knew that being stuck in current view, even sans assistance of glue, would remain his state of milieu until enough time flew for a descent to present course of toodle-oo.

But,

Pink autoptically saw no flaw in what physics asserted as law since she could trace ceiling’s linear draw, perceive depth with raw awe, and delight in echoed glows when she jiggled like a bra. ; )

Belle had wonder-wandered away from the lea to lick what turned out to be locale’s only particularly gummous tree—with sap that satisfied a bit too satisfactorily. Now, her bovine brood will only accept saccharine food lest a less than friendly mood, so with prefs renewed [and lone source spent as chewed], road trip ensues for deciduous syrup yet clued. If the mountains were dusted rock candy, that would be dandy. If the lake tasted sweet as cake, that would be a first-rate stake. But, alas, for moolasses of maple to, henceforth, be sustenance staple as pasture’s postured new fable, only way to that sweet high is a highway sweat by herd-together’s try. ; )

Sit so silently still on a sunny sill high in the sky.

Stalk the walk over the hustle and bustle of peeps and beeps.

Never announce pounce—a most badgering bounce—upon town’s clowns.

Alight aside lampion to aim maim like a champion.

Flail all paws with nary a wary pause to cur[l]tail the cause.

Re victim’s tears, lick them on ears post sick on their furry fears. ; )

From an inner stance head-hung, outer strength may seem too far-flung;

See, holding up the self requires more than just unfastened shelf.

Pillars can withstand only when they are not built upon sand.

Foundations provide a rise if fixtures do not oversize.

Only with footing steady will lifting others be ready.

So, when feeling ably weak, stable order is what to seek,

Where boosts are shared by each’s reach—on affirmed mount, never beach. ; )

In that hamlet’s locodescriptive review suggested fields of prismatic brilliance, Tuli felt like she was not quite up to playing her part in such a state of wilted being. Were there spaces, under shaded trees or in vacuous vases, where her wilted wonder would be more appropriately attributed? She oft wished she belonged in this clique of better blooms and, thusly, deserved to pose with them, but she also found unquestioning surrender to sun’s radiation felt somewhat superficial, especially since there were, in the frame of a literally grounded perspective, curiosities overlooked, overstepped—and, yes, in their triviality, she had not yet found an energy to erect herself; however, in that aura of the forgotten and footed, she had arisen reason to accept her place as postured—not for primes’ time, but as a beacon of belonging for those not yet ready or able to climb. ; )