Whilst tinchels of tots hunt for dearest, prized treats of the Easter-egg roll, floppy-eared bun accepts grand greens its friend-of-fur wishes to out-dole.

Swan of lake precisely fits the bill for inspiring strings plucked from cheville.

Vigesimal dolphins are swimming in a vee—jump, splash, echo—artistically.

Dorothy clicks her heels when no place like home begins to entice and photogs click the shutter when banausic moments call for spice.

With no citrus for the scurvy and developing dyscrasia due to the rotten wooden leg, it was no surprise that I, the smallest guy, took the brunt of his plight, but it matters no more because I have been banished from shoulder to comforter and, hence, into the softest, warmest space of sunlight. ; )