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.
Whatsoever Things 