No finer way to cope.

I have a tendency. To become momentarily perturbed (pissed). About politics. And about other personal matters. But then I quickly back off. For obvious reason. I can’t really do anything to bring about change. It’s out of my hands. Out of my control. I’m a lone voice in the wilderness. Shouting. Writing. To release my pent up emotions. A nice consolation. Doesn’t bother me when my only audience happens to be the squirrels and chipmunks and rabbits. Scampering across the yard. Paying me little heed.  Nobody really does. Might as well talk to myself.  Finally, I go to bed. Close my eyes. And fall asleep. Come morning. I wake. Rejuvenated. Able to walk my usual 10 miles. My opportunity to listen to the soothing language of chirping birds. No finer way to cope. With the rigors of life. --Jim Broede