'Tis a drizzly, gray day, and I am singing. Fortunately for all, I am alone in the household as I lift my voice. Once upon a time (don't all tales begin that way?) I had a clear, tuneful voice. Now my throat is dry and my vocal cords do not respond the way my mind imagines they should, and so I sing and laugh as well. What could be better? Laughter, and singing.
And I'm imagining that all around in the universe the morning stars are still and always singing, too.
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