Waltzing Along

A ho-hum evening after days of cloud and rain. A walk that's uninspired, plodding. The houses hold no surprises, and the clouds are uniform, without color or texture.

The music in my ears is plodding, too. Tunes heard too often. A switch to news makes little difference.

And then my ears hit the jackpot, a change of tempo. It's a waltz. Not an obvious one or a schmaltzy one,  but I'd recognize 3/4 time anywhere. I find myself counting 1,2, 3; 2,2,3; 3,2,3.  Almost hypnotic, that beat. And liberating, too.

It's like a transfusion. I pick up the pace, I loosen the shoulders. My arms swing more freely by my side. And soon I'm on the downhill slope, toward home and dinner.