Arctic bitter dead of winter cold polar vortex deep freezes each lovely bone excellent existential prized memory swimmingly recalls boyhood
listening to drone of various and sundry en deer ring fauna extant amidst greensward,
where imagination hath flown to imaginary Eden lifting uber a maize zing ears cocked towards Mother Nature's petsmart crafted chorus
flushing out soundcloud queen of happy campers with bees zee winged wonders as they hone
suite tracks unstinting well crafted aural presentations intended to entice a mate opposite jejune
targeting their search nsync with one or another favorable counterpart, this buzz zing destiny could favor a loon
or some other apropos biological entity (or perchance if desperate to mate) **** sitter another species including the manifestation of microbes on the moon
whereat boys and girls bounding, exclaiming, and yelping joie de vivre asper when counselors blow whistle call at high noon hour of day iz lunch, thence resuming their made up fun and par lore games such as knight in shining armor dashing off to save
damsel in distress signaling sans SOS and favorite ring tone tune of potential prince where young love doth Flickr oblivious to a similar situation, aye lichen to avast Marcy's playground
such panoply a prediction forecast by Doctor Punxatawney Phil a blue oyster cult meme burr thus, in lay person terms six more weeks of winter for 2018 -
so stay warm to stave off feeling offal bodes ill for species who clamor for warmth - supposed tell tale shadow spelt "N+I+L+L" and remain in hibernation if opportunities allow, and be thankful for not bing forced to mill around seeking warmth (case in point a street person),
but ye and the big or 'lil body of warm flesh adjacent to thee (this day and age - gender preference a moot factor),
or take stock, stock and barrel, how other creatures great and small burrow underground under a hill or reef amphibians, mammals, reptiles...
instinct can remain 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea a fictitious place evoked by Jules Verne,... hm...maybe he might breathe courtesy of an atavistic gill who would downplay brouhaha to avoid any cavil.