Hmmm. Don’t know where to go with this. I took a creative writing course once. The instructor would give us a prompt or scenario, but we only had a few minutes to think about it then write – the timer stopped, giving us more or less time, depending on the topic. I’ve been thinking about “song” for thirty minutes.

I hear birds on my balcony and the flow of water from the filter in my fish tank – I have a Golden Dojo Loach, a bizarre fish. About once a week, I catch him floating on his back or his side, and I always get scared. “Is he dead?” Other times, he’s vertical in one of the corners, and I look closely to see if he’s still breathing. But always, just when I’m confident he’s died this time, he rights himself and starts swimming again – The rhythm of my relationship with DJ. Now I think he does it on purpose, laughing to himself. Like I’m his entertainment.

As a child, I’d go for long walks with my dad, just talking and enjoying the fresh air, stopping to look at anthills or tadpoles caught in a makeshift pond after heavy rainfall. Finding caterpillars and putting them in jars, releasing butterflies. Sometimes we’d just hang out in my grandmother’s backyard, eating bananas off the tree and anything else that was ripe in the garden. We’d watch the goats and chickens do their thing. Nature sings!

When I tune out, I tune in. Listen!

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