Rustle Rustle Sing A Song

[shipshapeshipco]

Ahh, there's nothing quite like the triumphant trill of the pre-spring breeze as it rushes past your ear! Though I must admit an awkward ambivalence to this particular wind. I seem to recall it asking me to romp in the grass, free as a fair-weather. Now all these puffles want me to do is listen to their whimpers for relief- and they refuse to offer me a way to do so!

Wait a walter- miserable begging without a concept of self-determination? Begads- the winds have become Italian! Someone hide the wine, the garlic, and the young!