I look for music as I work my life. In eyes, ears and hearts, even hand and body language. Encounters are music to me, and I can see/hear the discords. Actually, I love discords when they startle and with attitude and confidence. I heard one piece of music in church on Sunday and it was full of all those challenges, should have resolved but didn’t, and kept me on a ledge. Love that, just as I love to see a challenger out there, anywhere, someone so determined to be who they are in choice of clothes, attitude, confidence, opinions. They are music to me. The alternative, it seems, is grey or black, no smiles, bent body. automaton/robot/blind.

I’m. watching the sun head for bed. The sky is a dither, clouds in stasis as we all look for the sinklight. the tide is high, the gulls a load of choirgirls out of tune. Goldfinches fight around the feeders; walkers laugh by under sunshine and a wapsicle sky. Music. If you want to hear it, you will.

I even heard it as the recycling lorry arrived this morning. I was leaving for work. Heard it, the music of wheels turning, the music of the men in the cab and the work they do, week after week.