Father deerest felt they should head towards the glen—where there remained berried bushes available for nibbles again.

Mother deerest felt they should head towards the glade—where fresh flakes would protect them as their tracks would, then, so silently fade.

Baby deerest, as mugwump of the frosted fam, believed choices had led to an unsweetened jam, so rather than giving either option its glam, lead ‘rents towards winter’s last Christmas wonder-WHAM! ; )

Lea’s garden, a sea of senses, where head makes bed in roadstead of flora’s tread, allows aromas to anchor amelioration—readying mind-ship’s set sail for any incoming gale. ; )

For drips, as it seems,

A balefire of beans

Awaits cooling creams.

For sips—to the means,

Each mug to mug cleans

What pointless view deems. ; )

Like strikingly sheened kicks confidently completing relaxed black slacks, her presented kakizome stood for first date’s hopes for future’s tracks. ; )

Within her Christmas sweven,

Carol dreamt so of heaven,

Where wept sorrow was redeemed

As forgiveness presents beamed

And zampogna’s chorus sung

Into spirit’s heart turned young—

While God’s descending Dearest

Uplifted prayers clearest. ; )