This was not the ‘Swan Lake’ served under latchets and laces—

Though,

Here was the swans’ lake swum by familiar facets: graces. ; )

Of course, Hannah always watched over her field as she light Scotch flan ate—

a privilege Ciscaucasian hamster surely did appreciate—

For minarchism—too fitting for both wee size and tiny locate—

Granted her freedom to self-determine just deserts served on her plate. ; )

Oh, dearest swishable tea

That stirs twixt both you and me

Hot splashes of enstrophy

In sane drops of energy,

Morning’s that rise grumpily

Turn into day’s warmthful glee

As your sips so handily

Let chaos leave. Harmony. ; )

“Quack!” chirped the duckling emerging in a surprising state of calm.

“Quack!” chimed the duckling whose story so rightly earned front-page balaam.

“Quack!” charmed the duckling after rescuing a dozen sibs plus mom.

“Quack!” cheeped the duckling regarding courage in the face of much qualm. ; )

Awaiting his arrival, she reread her favourite chapter’s pages before, she hoped, rendezvous with luftmensch would uplift her—even if such an ideal unification meant releasing herself from head’s insistence on remaining grounded. ; )