If you bow, as you leave, for your beau by a beau-pot, a leaf may fall for your beauty instead and pot upon roots flowing waves from your head. ; )

Some remain alighted in vicinity of metate’s offering while others call each other across wires and even more practice perching atop poles. Then, there are those who just fly. ; )

Damsel’s stoic stare. Blonde’s lighted hair. Lady’s aura fair. Scanning for charming care, Rory Ruritanian awaits. Her prince’s mare. Sir’s valiant dare. Settling of lair. Connections rare. Sunsets as pair. ; )

As tastily carefree bug loops a trail in the mist, Liza sits in awe of the bug not yet inside her licked jaw—until pencraft’s ‘eat me’ finally meets its insist. ; )

If a horse experiencing thirst had once, by a holophotal lighthouse’s guidance, been led to a saline sea, then, of course, that horse, presently leading a band, would be prone to advising its mates to abstain from a drink from dusty desert’s watering hole—even in spite of little-lake’s lovely lambency emitting welcoming plops to encroaching equines’ clops. ; )