What Fills the Space With Wonder?

Devoted to wonder what the heck is going on

I decided to write another sad song

Cuz the holes in my head

Have long disappeared

On account of what happened

In September of a long ago year.

“Harold,” Miles the packrat screamed. Well, it actually sounded like the sound that emits from a cat’s mouth when someone accidentally steps on their tail. Anyway, Miles, who had been dozing and dreaming of dancing snowflakes and Santa Rat with his magical sleigh of rain cats headed by Harold the Ghost with a bright red nose, curled up between John Steinbeck’s East of Eden and the Harry Potter Trilogy, the complete special edition, was most unhappy, to say the least, to have his pleasant dream burst open by the squalor emitting from the attic.

“Oh, Miles,” Harold said, “You’re awake. Come upstairs. I’m working on a new song. We can have a jam session.”

Harold sounded so pleased, but Miles could already feel a headache erupting between his two pointy ears. Well, actually, one of his ears no longer stood tall and proud on account of a cat fight, but that’s another story for another day. Miles wondered what insanity had prompted him to buy Harold the vintage fiddle on EBay. Harold promised Miles that he knew how to fiddle, and Miles, eager to play some fast and furious Irish jigs with his tail as the hammer for the Bodhran he got himself, well, Miles sometimes got caught up in the frenzy, and even as he purchased the fiddle, he began having second thoughts.

Too late, as his father used to say. The fiddle had arrived, and Harold, excited to have his very own fiddle, was even able to materialize long enough to play the damn thing. Well, that’s not what Miles considered it…