Heron alit.

Air on? Legit.

Miyagi’s crane—

Ave cannot feign.

Ref as a gull

Golds bird meedful.

Winner, winner

Checks each kicker.

Then, to the nest

Wings fleeting rest—

Fore steps of quest

Ask more of best. ; )

“Excellent!” emitted Sam-Sam twixt his bites. “My ESP worked on that bipedal bumbler, who planted in the yard a plethora of peanut plants to a most ecologically empowering ecesis.” ; )

Pappi of multeity huddle in a sphere.

Soon, they will empty their nest via here to there.

Up-growing will, then, be each seed’s pressure to bear.

So, both by and with roots, they will fare fine with air. ; )

Terri bested that hare by a hair—of the chin, not the nose, by the way—by crossing first the tape and, now, our spry-albeit-dry purposed tortoise continues on her way—to preserve the vibe with an imbibe at the riverscape, where Myrtle and Shelly are waiting to welcome their winsome winner to a classy, grassy—with a side of sassy—dinner. ; )

Stop and smell the flowers, but do not pick them—for their denizen ladybugs may just have some heat for your seat—some ants for your pants if you will, who, like firebugs, can burn your turn…if you spurn to learn dares to take never best cares that earn. ; )