Our Ardent Pinky Promises

fish are flapping and the end is nigh . . .

Please punch the door shut behind you pulverizing our ardent pinky promises serene fog blots the stars from the sky if only we hadn’t blown off Sage Owl.

Wish we had some sea to sail away on let’s hitch a ride with a jovial humpback hijack her devout archipelago migration seeking her preferred birthing splash.

A bubbly sea is bumping up and down seahorses splash our merry-go-round look at how much sand keeps sifting by kelp wraps ‘round to bind a waterspout.

Whale gives me a shove in Margaritaville where crossdressing turtles do the calypso spicy snails tiptoe the tomatillo nachos and autumn moon wanes o’er the anemones.

Hush now, the hounds have been howling promises! promises! how cheeky can we be? like any of us can promise away a foul future when all seagulls point to climate catastrophe.

While writing this, I was listening as Joni Mitchell received an award with various artists singing her playful and profound lyrics. I was dipping my toes in the leeching pool.

Jenine "Jeni" Baines . . . if mountains were mesas:

Sangita Pal . . . how can we not treasure this planet?

Mike tester . . . a vignette that goes without saying: