#131 … Yorick’s Riddles, luv poems for utilitarian things …

It is perspiration season here on the prairie, its’ even hotter in other places.  “To whit” (as he credits this moment) Yorick notes the pain, and remembers the burdens of flesh; and, even a skeleton appreciates certain contraptions.

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If all goes well, and the fires don’t spread into prairie-digital worlds, then next Friday Yorick will provide an answer.

 

#128 … considering answers and some pondering …

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So, did you get last weeks riddle? maybe while you were dangling and clanging your Key Chain??

Wouldn’t it be nice if every riddle was so easily solved (or dismissed).

 

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Yorick is out wandering the prairie; just imagine marbled cerulean above and dappled green, really really green below.  Such is trusted this time of year.

Nature and judicious tending typically remove the mystery of growing.  But the reaping, (where lies can’t confuse the numbers) is a puzzle, months from resolution.