That which I adore: tree recliners instead of the floor, apples so delish they tempt eating the core, pup-pups with eyes pleading for belly rubs more, both shoes and spirit that are left bouncy rather than sore, greens so bright they merit envy from Irish lore, and a nap’s nod to wink under spell of arvo’s petrichor. ; )

Claire chugs a can of fruitful effervescence—a cenotaph of intemperance, which she will set upon her sill [rather than inside the bin] as a reminding decor of that which now floats her rather than drowns. ; )

Koalas bear wear which ever invites cuddly care, but sweethearted squamates struggle to shed the scoundrelism stereotyped to their scales and spikes—even though, like their furry friend, they just want to reciprocate loves and likes. ; )

“Well, little goslings, you see, as I was recounting to them stories from the city, I waxed about how its towers must have been constructed from ancient ave-gods because they are adorned by modillions that look like bills—just like ours.” honked Howard. “Your [eventual] mom was the one who was ‘listening’ just enough to hear that I adored her, had millions, and could last for hours.” ; D

Pearls of wisdom may begin their journey in a bed of culch of the coast, but, then—Who knows?—, they might also develop twixt the words and sheets paging for pensive passion from their most brilliant host. ; )