“Captive to the Magic”

Day 98, #2026bigyearproject

My grandmother could not read, but by singing while doing ordinary tasks and making pithy observations, she raised a son who freed himself from an ordinary orbit by sneaking into classes he was too young to attend.

My daughter once transformed the air in our car during an endless traffic jam by reciting “Over in the Meadow” for her astonished Amma and Ampa.

After a visit, my front-door intercom buzzed. Two friends sang “Ain’t She Sweet” as a thank you for dinner.

Metrics may inform, but poetry casts light. Data may provide clarity, while legends and fables provide insight. Loudspeakers in train stations announce departures and arrivals. Buskers soothe commuters’ hearts.

We need meals and liquids to survive. We feed on literature, melody, and drumbeats.

#2026bigyearproject