Pine needles are bristling: hear the snow crack and melt
Nana’s joining our conspiracy; her dress is too cute!
Little scissors pairs mutilate the air with their sex
The candy canes are all too small
Three white anchors join together; a pauper’s Tynwald
Leagues from the Isle of Man
Solitude always triumphs at the peak of my Campanile
Bells shoo us back beneath pungent shadows
All resources must erect moai 2.0 and embed them into the land for
Grass snakes to squirm, rambunctious, at their bases.