Sweet Soft Song

Asleep, early morning and cool after yesterday's blaze of summer-tease, I could hear a woman humming close by, very subdued and without much tone, but soothing, and pleasing. I began to rustle awake, to wonder about the source. I live with only my son and two cats, and, well, not one of them has a voice quite like what I was hearing.

Not at all alarmed,  I rolled to face the window, and opened my eyes to the curtain fluttering in a steady breeze. And there was the source of such a soft and not-quite plaintive song: it was only the wind, wending its constant low whistling in through the slight gap I'd left open for air last night.

A change in the weather, and my not-quite disappointment that my reverse lullaby was only slightly less than human.

Time to get up.

It stayed with me all day, that almost-melody, my soft comfort, my pillowed memory.

Wind From the Sea, by Andrew Wyeth