I do not know how often this happens to you, but it happens to me some mornings.
I become, well, a nightingale. It is as if a song in my sleep continues into my waking dreams.
I can’t stop singing, humming, whistling, and invent a whole new repertoire of tunes that seem to have just been born. I half-listen, half-dream. In bleak winter or scorching summer, I can smell spring. I thinks of smiles in color.
Sometimes the songs last through the day, seeping through the things I do, the grins I just cannot keep in, and the non-stop banter with no-one in particular—–crazily enough, sometimes even with the ceiling!
Sometimes they don’t. Don’t last, that is.
At other times they just hum and whisper in my heart, warbling close to my ear, and make me go quiet, joyous.
Today was one of those other times. Happy quiet, quiet happy.
So, how was your day today?