Weekends are when my honey-bunny shoes away the blues by heading to the dance floor—her natural rabbitat—with me, where, as the music pumps, we turn spins and kicks into evening’s ‘Merries For The Earies’ mix. ; )

Break from the break, away from jollops and honks and slams and shouts, embraces the embraced with a warmth not by proximity, but by silent shines upon self’s selected singularity. ; )

When grace seeks refuge upon another shore, countering currents, like praemunire persisting on power over probity, actually buoy the ride to righteousness as perseverance carries the glide against the tide. ; )

Stirring twixt supine and prone upon zebra-ed sitter, she, an amalgamation of both stubbornness and its consequent long face—a hinny of ginny of sorts, will confidently-familiarly endure mind’s precipiced path—wandering past regrets still hanging over her tousled mane. ; )

Distanced by beach,

But still in reach,

Oasis is nigh,

Under blue sky.

Spirit holds hope,

Mind nixes nope,

Will steps toward,

Prayers plead Lord.

Now, *sigh*.

Why?

What is ever true:

Murphy’s law on cue.

About to quench thirst’s ache:

Trembling hands and lost quaigh. ; )