Do not tell ’em Show ’em. Or t’other way ’round. Whatever.

Due to the heat I have written you a poem:
All the fishes in the sea have sent a letter addressed to me. Mostly they were just interested in saying “hi” but also expressing a wish that we eat more pie. For the best pies are made from the fruit of the trees and do not contain anything which swims in the seas. I wrote them back to ask “Why me?” And they said, “We got your name from a bumblebee.”
“Ah,” said I, “I know it* well.”
“Yes,” said the fishes, “It said you were really swell.”

The cock crows at the sun

Cherry is my favorite of all pies. Do not tell the other pies.

Magic fishes grant wishes. They grant only one due to austerity. So whatever you wish for say it with clarity.

—

(* Bumblebee neither a he nor a she but a drone. And we all drone on. Like the sea, and the stars, and the sun.)