Dilly Dallying..

My room smells like chrysanthemums. The smells wafts about like a bee dancing gently, weaving through petals. 'Tis a pleasant addition to the sting of an air that is moist and heavy with the presage of thunder that comes nightly to keep my insomnia company.

The pale light struggles through glass bay windows that are shut tight. Should I stop to look up, I am greeted by the vast, green magnolia tree against a grey sky . Invisible birds, enshrouded by Miss Magnolia, are trilling away - out of time with Mozart who plays on, oblivious and cheerful.

It is 4 PM. I want to go for a walk and smell the roses on Mrs. Van something's front lawn. My senses are heightened although my brain feels dead. I simply cannot seem to concentrate. But I stay rooted to my seat, crouched over my desk, feeling too afraid to get up, too reckless to work.

A cloud has passed. And a ray strikes me bright and cold in the eye. Shall I just sleep for a while perhaps? Only if there is some chance that I will wake up and find, I'm somewhere else, doing something else.

Since that can't happen, Tally-Ho!! The fox has been sighted!