3WW (CXLIII)

Dear Gentle Reader,

It's 3WW time, again.

I am just out of the operating room and rather groggy from the anaesthesia.

Capricious (fickle) fates have revealed sparkling wet bits through new, precise, surgical wrinkles; crescents that I have been assured will go away.

I told them I would, too.

So they upped my anaesthesia.

I'll spare you the details, but the nurses were amused and the anaesthetist was startled.

I likely should have told them that I have a propensity for waking up mid-surgery, although one would presume that the various surgeons and specialists would share these amusing bits of trivia amongst themselves.

This week (CXLIII) the words are fickle, sparkle, and wrinkle.

Further, each haiku gets its very own American sentence title.

Love broken, made, or found must be hinted, hunted in seventeen sounds

the wrinkle in love

is not fickle luck or fate

when eyes sparkle, wet

Earth science alchemy: liquid fire transforms to cool obsidian

fickle magma pops

bubbles, wrinkles, sparkles black;

broken fire in stone

Gieves and Hawkes, Hugo Boss, Armani (the fates)... iron out our future

Dull steel sparkles hot;

wrinkles' destiny is flat.

Fickle fashions fate

Tschuess,

Chris

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