Shall I Go Mad? Should? Would? Will? Shall I spend this drippy end-of-summer day watching yellow birds flutter down from high branches to low and then flutter up? I could clean house. I could pray. I could sit with my loved worthy spouse drinking hot or tepid tea, exhuming Hume, Pepys, Cervantes, Lyndon Johnson, Ian Fleming; pausing to wonder why those crows are grousing and in such loud numbers. High-density chaos speakers on this semi-rural dead end. I could go to town. As if there were “town” to go to. The center did not hold. Bake. Eat. Fantasize myself thinner, smarter, able to leap tall buildings-er. Is this a brown study? Yesterday there was a red and green rainbow. Tomorrow is the first day of autumn. Where does time go?