Menagerie brings to mind the startled,  noisy flight of a colorful flock of birds. Feathers of greens, reds, and gold trailing behind as they dart into the jungle trees. Or of an old brass cage housing a quiet cluster of cockatiels. Their yellow heads bobbing, orange cheeks glowing as they discuss the pros and cons of millet seeds.

It reminds me of my favorite aisle in Hobby Lobby, when I stand in awe at the colors and textures delighting my eyes. With beads of every hue and transparency, how could I ever choose just one string full?

It makes me want to watch an old-timey movie with women dancing in sparkly dresses and men in suits jiving to upbeat music. Smiles on faces without a thought or care for the morrow.

Of schools of fish gliding through the water. Their silvers, yellows, and blues flashing in beams of water-piercing sunlight. Graceful turns with the flick of a streamlined tail leading them to the next purple coral or long, green stem of seaweed.

Menagerie makes me think of one of my favorite places in the world. The little used bookstore, tucked between two large chain stores, subtly vibrating with its laid-back, mellow life-flow. Shelves of colorful books, gems tucked into cramped spaces. A treasure hunt of paper and spines that always ended in my budget being forgotten. I miss that little store. It was where I spent three birthdays in a row, basking in the quiet, childless solitude between the rows.

Menagerie is vibrant colors, assortments of creativity, and magic inside covers. And magic inside the flow of the word itself.

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