Sounds of Songs

November rains bring winds swirling,
twirling yellow leaves to stick on the windshield.

Thunder grumbles on the drive,
the morning radio for once silent as we listen –

the squeak of wipers
tires wet on pavement
whirring warmth of heated air
blowing on the glass.

I see her in the rearview, sitting in her carseat
troubling with her shoes as always.

Then I hear it, the wisp of a song,
not quite a melody, not quite a hum
but more than a word, more than word!

I’ve never heard her sing before.

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