This is my season for heliacal risings. I am a star. I was up before the sun. And, if my existence does not yet inspire, wait until these pies are done.

If these sartorial choices seem rather bland and flat-as-matte, you are looking at the wrong part of me—for the shine is just below the brimmy hat.

Now, a foolatum once hired others to pick his fruits and shine his shoes, but crab apples sour sushi and fancy footwear is what thieves do choose.

Those engaged in thaumatolatry may only regard sky’s light source, but taste, talent, bores, and mistakes are each life-miracles as well—all deserving lauding of course. ; )