Phil predicts warmth will spring forth earlier this year and, indeed, aves are ready to jump into seasonal song a round before their chicks, especially the leaplings, chirp us their purpose—to herald fun in the run of the sun—a ton…plus one. ; )

Let me tell you this tail’s tale of two situations. First, there is the concoction of conditioner, intended as a cream, but created with the consistency of graupel—and pleasantly scented of spicy cloves. Then, there is the salted air sans humidity that fosters fluffiness amidst the auburn aura of dawn’s hope. Combined, they have created a tantalizing twist of tresses tickling fingers’ fancy, but only for your admiring stare—never for a run through such heavenly hair. ; )

So

I

Huggle the knees

Because the bees

Gifted me these

Blooms of lea’s

Wayward breeze

That does please

With sunlit glees

Upon heart’s pleas

For those esprits

Which love as ease. ; )

Having left his terella and its tells in the lab, tumbling turns, similar to those preceding a first date, intensified as aurora and its attraction became inevitable as available. But, it happened that unanticipated elements were the ones to which his heart would be drawn most dearly—gelid blocks breeching Earth’s drink, life-size simulations of the recipients of wondering stares oft aimed into glasses of melting hope. And, upon this journey between dream and enlightenment, he—ionically if not ironically—would actually become what he sought: particles charged by es-t-rella. ; )

Carrying forward,

Soles clap on stone

As columns crossed

Stripe daylight,

A cordial carpet

Reminding rendezvouser

That a meeting

Fins at time set,

Releasing for return

To self’s inner sol. ; )