Flutter-bys
There are days when a melody flies up out of nowhere and nestles itself safely somewhere in the confines of your ears. Once there, the tenacious little munchkin refuses to settle down, and pretty much dictates the mood and tempo of the rest of your day.
There’s no earthly reason for gloom, drear and dullness, when the beat keeps the day alive. Soon enough, a lonely hand seeks the company of another, and two otherwise square feet search for a partner at 100 beats per minute. The search, like a rocky hillock in the middle of a desert, does not bear fruit. But a solitary dancer is the talk of the town, and who needs a partner when stifled giggles and suddenly hushed conversations are there to egg you on?
In some time, other tasks pale in comparison to the zeal and perseverance needed for that sound to stay where it was. Work gets done, ugliness erased and insecurities awash when no one cares enough to give them a second thought. As long as that beat goes on, it’s all going to be okay.
The dancing gives way to a foot tapping softly on the floor. The important chores, nudged gently so far till the end of the day, must be finished now. The bags are packed up and reluctantly hitched on a shoulder that is still shaking with the feet, ever so slightly. Somehow the foot-tapping survives over the crass cacophony of a dinner in a cheap deli. It mingles with the slow humming on the walk all the way back home, where the gentlest of winks is a signal to the band to start the show as the entourage in the land of dreams.
There’s no earthly reason for gloom, drear and dullness, when the beat keeps the day alive. Soon enough, a lonely hand seeks the company of another, and two otherwise square feet search for a partner at 100 beats per minute. The search, like a rocky hillock in the middle of a desert, does not bear fruit. But a solitary dancer is the talk of the town, and who needs a partner when stifled giggles and suddenly hushed conversations are there to egg you on?
In some time, other tasks pale in comparison to the zeal and perseverance needed for that sound to stay where it was. Work gets done, ugliness erased and insecurities awash when no one cares enough to give them a second thought. As long as that beat goes on, it’s all going to be okay.
The dancing gives way to a foot tapping softly on the floor. The important chores, nudged gently so far till the end of the day, must be finished now. The bags are packed up and reluctantly hitched on a shoulder that is still shaking with the feet, ever so slightly. Somehow the foot-tapping survives over the crass cacophony of a dinner in a cheap deli. It mingles with the slow humming on the walk all the way back home, where the gentlest of winks is a signal to the band to start the show as the entourage in the land of dreams.
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