An
ALARM goes off in my somewhat
BURLY self, as my long-time ill-treated
COLON cries, ‘Sit down!, take a sombre
PAUSE, and think.’   

_{[Images of the colon were generally too gross to use!]}

BOOTH, the founder of the Sally Army, loved a
LUSTY noise, a joyful noise unto the Lord, a
NOISE that roused sinners to seek salvation –
WHINY sinners (or better, winey), with drinkers of beer and spirits too.    

I AWAIT my often-late mate at the
CROSSroads. Above me, a solitary
EAGLE slides skywide spying for
MEATY roadkill. Something
SLICKened or even, on a good day,
SOLID, will do, some poor life traffic-
TAKEN. The eagle rises higher for a
WIDER view.