Dear you,
“Sing a song of sunbeams. Showing the blue’s we’re busy.” Rock top with friends. We’re grabbing hold of this delicious sensation. Infecting ourselves with dose of Yippee. Light stepping. Rock hopping. Bass slapping. In the Grand Canyon, take two. Squinting in the sun. Grimace makes grin. And it looks like we’re smiling even if we’re not. With a fascinating, abrupt ending.
Yours loon grinning at the birdie,
X
(Postcard collage title: A whole new kind of formation.)