I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the slowdown.

People who know me well know I listen to music constantly.

When I walk, run, or ride my bike, I'm almost always wearing my headphones so I can listen to the

playlists I've put a lot of care into making.

I grew up making mixtapes for myself and for friends,

and later burning mixes onto blank CDs.

Ah, the 80s and 90s.

Now, in this era of streaming music, we have playlists.

The playlist is an art in itself, choosing the songs, the order, the transitions between them.

Moving through the world with a personal soundtrack in my ears makes me feel somehow insulated from the world

and more a part of the world. Clouds, birds, buildings, people, I see all of them differently

with my favorite songs as the backdrop.

The color is dialed up.

The observations feel special.

A simple walk or bike ride becomes a triumphant scene.

You can almost see yourself from the perspective of a viewer. Music makes you feel like the protagonist

in a beautifully shot and scored independent film. My teenage daughter would probably say that

with headphones on, I'm moving through the world with main character energy. She does it too.

Today's poem captures this joyful experience with wit and originality, and it references the

soundtrack of my childhood, 80s music.

The Difficult Countryside by John Galaher.

I talk more to trees and mice than I let on.

...