Do you ever feel like you're on a runaway train? Dashing from one stop to the next. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. Over scheduled? Over connected? Spread thin to the point of feeling veneered. Well he thinks his layers are coming unglued. Did he mix his metaphors? Refer to himself in the third person? Yet, another sign of a mind in disarray.
Of late, morning coffee is just something he guzzles on his way to work. This A.M., he put the brakes on and savored on the front porch, listening to the birdsong. The one that caught his ear above the others, was the ca-ca-ca-cough of the cuckoo. High overhead in the canopy where it likes to hang out.
Yellow-billed cuckoos eat insects, especially the tent caterpillars that are so abundant, crawling through the treetops at this time of the year. For a brief time late yesterday, Rachael became a cuckoo's bird feeder, if only it had taken the bait.
He wonders what the fuzzy little things taste like? Are they something to savor or guzzle? Dare he try one? Oops, yet another sign of a mind in disarray.
•
