Gently tapped by greeting of each light ray,

Ready wakes nudge as nay to hit the hay,

Turning toss-to-wash bed sheets where they lay

Into rap-full pushes for mind’s new day,

Which sails through each of sets, rises, and play

Until voyage returns to dreams away. ; )

Hot-headed squawks tamed by feathered flocks: love birds.

Lot-heated rocks gained high, weathered blocks: batholith.

Got-wetted shocks rained nigh, flethered hawks: birds’ bath. ; )

Twixt the revetment and the range lied the road—a place that opted to speed rather than impede and which purposed pedalling instead of settling—with its arterial glow and flow connecting raced hearts, new parts, and fresh starts. ; )

Not to be shellfish, but I am going to need to ask you for a tax of lox for trespassing sans knocks—and, you otter be more careful when you are out to deliver near the river because if you want to get your feet wet here, you need swimming gear; so, please, obey the rules, else you will incite my romp to stomp at you a la erupting monticules. ; )

“Welcome home, Blue!”

“Now, before you begin breaking the house, we need to help you become housebroken.”

“Please, bark times two if you wish to head outdoors regarding that number too.”

“And, please, bark times three if you, instead, just need to wee by a tree.”

“Most importantly, though—if you cannot make to the exit in time, place your bum on the bumf in the corner so as to avoid a crime.” ; )