When stinging bees have knocked you down to your knees and also left your heart both hard and mardy, wait for the hum that will relieve your glum by way of sweet soothes and winged well-being party. ; )

Aves as architourists do love chasing steeples and tapping bridges and alighting upon ledges and even fluttering around ceilings when squawking at murals no longer lifts the bill, but, in the end, what they cherish the most is returning to their humble abodes, where they can still dream about girders while perched perfectly upon nature’s skyscraping beams specially made for the birders. ; )

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. ; )