Oviedo, FL: Yesterday I took a little road trip from Procrastination to Distraction. Having spent the entire morning in Completion I felt no guilt about this. Especially since I was beckoned to move farther along the path of avoidance by birdsong.
This not-so-little birdy extended a personal invitation outside to see him, and photograph him, and be an audience of one to hear his song. He sat on a lower branch and was so into his own story that I was able to get right under him to take his photo. Perhaps that was his plan all along.
I watched him for some time, his throat vibrating as he pontificated on the state of the weather and pesticides; lack of worms and suitable mates. On occasion his tone would change, becoming more conversational, understanding, softer. His passion was clear.
in order to reach a broader audience he would hop to the next higher branch, then the next higher tree. Satisfied he had conveyed his feelings appropriately or dismayed his calls had gone into the ether unheard, he flew away.
I thanked him, hopped back into my mental convertible and headed back to Procrastination. A little sad to leave Distraction, the land of shiny things and birdsong, I lingered for just a moment to see if something else would catch my eye, extending my stay. Not today. My mission complete, I turned the old rag top around glancing back only once at the sparkling raindrops on the honeysuckle. A mirage, I told myself as I pressed the accelerator in the direction of home.
Allison's Wanderland 