It was joyous to see the Thebby come out this morning.
Only to rue the time she sets.
But no!
For then she merely rearranges herself into tiny sparkling gems in the moon sky.
She cries too make our beautiful flowers grow......and she shakes her head vigorously in the snappy cold to allow for The Robert Frost to make fine rhyme.
With no Thebby we would all perish.
I wish her likeness graced all commercial packaging.
But I will settle for taking in the prime aroma of her fragrant postage.
I count the days until she transers her elegant beauty from her physical being,through her fine fingers and onto a page of whiteness here.
To die for.
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