Hip-hop Hi-hat Sunrise

Thursday, May 29, 2025

Good morning, The Wonderfell Way.

O/ Back at it. Up in stride.

Time to take a ride.

All aboard +he Ghos+ Train.

Chugga-chugga-choo-choo...Boo! 👻

How'd ya do?

Here we go.

On with our show...

Like a drum machine that only hits hi-hats, squirrels join in the morning songbird song.

Hip-hop hi-hat sunrise.

The birds aren't nuts about the squirrel's genre switch, but as flowers show variety is the spice of life, they chirp and tweet with the flow.

Like a neighbor just moved in who believes a nice stereo system means, "How big is the subwoofer? How low and loud does it go?"... the squirrels drum on.

You'd remind your neighbor that treble is a thing if you could survive the earthquake shake footsteps required to make it to his house.

Boom. Boom. Shake.
Goes the subwoofer bass.

"Treble is in the hi-hat, my new neighbor. Like the set up?" Your new neighbor asks.

"The squirrels do." Is the right answer, though it would require some poetic explanation.

But poetry and subwoofer quakes beg for rap, and a rap song is rarely about a peaceful neighborhood environment.

So... "Sure do. Expensive?"

"Oh yeah, cost an arm and a leg. I wrote it off as a business expense, though. I work 3rd Shift. Helps me wake up in time for work."

The birds and I are happy to hear this.

Hip-hop is an energy drink tailfeather shake.

The morning birds are a simple black, maybe a little sugar in it, cup of coffee to sit and sip and line up the dreams to do the day.

The synthesized squirrel syncopated strikes subside.

The songbirds gather backstage and time their entrance off the swoops of interstate morning commute shooter-bys.

The Curtain and The Sun go up.

Showtime.

Take care, remember there's more to life and music and poetry than bangin' it out, and make wonderful our wonderful day.