Lightly, she glides with ease of grace’s style,

Adorned in veil’s synchronous wisps of while;

Darkly, she hides the sin of garb’s secret—

Fellmonger’s pixie pelt on soul’s regret. ; )

If Myrtle could so reach that place, she would scratch her inion

Regarding such slighted—and, now, flipped-out—fact—not opinion:

A bird in the hand may indeed be worth a bush’s fair pair,

But, then, there is clearly reason naught for turtle in the air!

“Handler, hands off aquatic, non-aeronautic testudine;

Shoo by own featherless wings—though, first, place me in water. Fine?!” ; )

Love songs are for the birds via

Plucking [heart] strings: currents cross chevalet for play.

Love bites are for the birds via

Grooming [beat] wings: torments floss keeps at bay for yay. ; )

Contemplation

Via

Thinks above drinks

Re

Weltschmerz am fenster

Considers

Swapping

Strife of life

For

Henwife’s rife,

Where

Weathering a storm

Changes to

Feathering a norm—

Of

Hygge earned

Rather than

Hope’s hugs yearned. ; )

Rare, awed axis via parataxis: sun selects lucky seventh; photons synthesize Dawn’s wake; reboot’s roots ready rayed rise. ; )