What? You don’t know how? Do this, sit in a quiet place and let your mind drift-free. You have no worries, no bosses, no big brother, no nothing except you and the universe. Breathe deep. You have taken the first step; keep it up; the year is young. Don’t let this one escape; bound by convention, you are you, and no one is even remotely the same. Well, I guess you could have a twin. As an example of free-drifting thought, I wrote about my new friend. He, like me, is a free thinker. In fact, he up and moved into a cathouse right beside me. Ah, life with Major Tom.

MAJOR TOM’S GROUND CONTROL

One furry dog, and a fuzzy black cat,

Make up our critters; we’re good with that.

From woods, male feline came, too chill for a stroll,

A fixture now, Major Tom, he’s ground control.

Old dog-loo remodeled became his cat-house,

Lounges on heated mattress quiet like mouse.

Toms got no problems, except not coming in,

House kitty watches laughing; I’ve seen her grin.

But life is not so bad; wife almost force-feeds,

His belly grows, Major Tom gets all he needs.

Water supplied, sits close to Tom’s heated fort,

Sunny days blanketed chair, moral support.

Tom doesn’t regret coming to check out our pad,

The Major must admit, life didn’t treat him bad.

Now he watches birds, as squirrels run around,

Eyeballs now control on Tom’s piece of ground.

OK with that, Tom likes to sit in my lap,

I don’t give him trouble; he don’t give me crap.

Safe from world’s problems sitting in our lawn-chair,

Night comes, he goes, me too, I’m cold sitting there.