YAWNY RIVER

            Once upon a tad near bedtime story, nestled midst the mighty oaks on the east bank of the Yawny River, dwelled the humble yet picturesque cottage of the Tess and the Ted. Much was the life of this loving couple like that sleepy little Yawny River, the river of gentle surface, yet deep and chasmic channel. And so it came to pass that Tess and Ted sat perched upon nubuck sofa, not so engrossed in a yesteryear movie.

                        

            "Stop it, Ted!" Tess yawned.

            

            "Stop what?" Ted, the initial instigator of yawn, yawned again.

            "Stop it, stop it, stop yawnnnnnnn-ing." Tess spun yawn of her own. "Just stop." She nudged elbow into companion's ribs.

            Ted mid yawn warned, "Watch it little squirt or you might bruise the rib from which you came." Ted mid giggle yawned again.

            "I may just have to elbow every last one of those yawns out of you!" Tess attempted stifle of both giggle and yawn.

            "How am I to deny my wide open mouth from involuntarily inhaling the air of fatigue?"

            "Me thinks tis more a voluntary betrayal of boredom."

            "What?"

            "You are bored with moi, your most precious wife?"

            "Tess, please don't slip down the slippery yawning chasm of self-pity."

            "Thee protesteth too mucheth like the bird singeth of paradise losteth." Tess splattered lispy lisp of metaphor.

            Ted sat stunned. Did not know whether to laugh or gag. Decided neither was safe. Tess had lost it. He let slip, "You done gone possum eatin' persimmons crazy!" And to make it worse, too late to hide with hand... he yawned!

            "Now that yawn was for sure more a voluntary signal of displeasure to the point of obnoxious distain." Tess trembled like a boiling tea pot, vibrated like a volcano fixin' to spew, buzzed like a rattle snake signaling strike. Then she quietly with tears welling in eyes pled, "All I ever ask for is a little love."

            Ted gathered his Tess close, rubbed her back and shoulders, whispered thru her shag cut auburn hair into ear, "I'm sorry sweet Tess. My yawn was just a hint, just a signal, it's time to go to bed."

            "Now you're talking," Tess batted eyelashes, gave hint of suggestive wink punctuated with what else but fake yawn.

            "Deception by yawn? No fair!" Ted feigned protest.

            "Don't forget the fake tears, dear. Works every time."

            "You little scamp."

            "Yeah."

            "You skunk petite."

            "Yeah, how stinky am I?" Tess wiggled, she giggled.

            Ted smiled, swept up into his arms a certain favorite pest. Made nonstop way to bedroom and to foot of bed, where Squeaky the cat lay catnapping head...

            And pausing at the foot of that bed while still in Ted arms, Tess blessedly said, "Perhaps the most noble motive of the yawn," she yawned, "may just be empathy."

            Ted echoed yawn, whispered warm breath in Tess ear, "What a gift that sharing of light heart, a giggle or two, maybe even a precious oneness."

            "Let us thank the Lord." Tess kissed her Teddy.

            So ends, maybe more so begins our tad near once upon a bedtime story, where dwells the humble yet picturesque cottage of the Tess and the Ted, nestled midst the mighty oaks on the east bank of the not so sleepy Yawny River...

Ecclesiastes 3:1&4...   Psalm 150: 1 thru 6...