Nimrod tracks the mammal under the sea by clues left so breathlessly and then changes mind to shoot it, instead, with that which the camera does indeed see.
If one cannot finish the whole kebbuck due to it being deemed worthy of the label yuck, bitter feelings may be washed away with that bubbly wine whose bottle depicts a blithe duck.
Will the emperor listen to the augur’s chirps or heed the witch’s woo? Perhaps, the truest harbinger boils down to oscines’ preparation in viewy brew.
Left with a desert in the heart rather than a repletion of desire’s dessert, hope’s last call cries for a skerrick of effervescence to revive a soul left inert. : )