Some days are too beautiful to passively live through.
On those days, rich and clear, the world changes.
Everything stretches upwards, reaching.
I could mention turgor pressure and light-tracking, but-
I prefer to think of it as music-
Bone-deep and insistent.
When I write I think of that rhythm under the surface-
Pulsing joyfully towards a never-ending sky.
We’re always singing, can you hear it?
If you want to hear some other non-musical songs, I have also written a fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor. It is available here.
