‘Fore paws pitter wander-walkies,

Pup with peep pat-a-wake mornward,

Sunning stats from rest to ready—

For ventures held ‘tween tail and tale. ; )

Traipsing amongst busts of angled angels, guard lowered his guard.

Twixt columns of scagliola, security stayed secured.

But,

Then,

Watcher’s round found conflagration incensed in situation

As static’s serene scene had turned into arch transmutation. ; )

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. ; )