I hear the hum of my heater, telling me it is still working, and I am warm. I hear the hum of my car, not too loud, so I know I am safely travelling to my destination. I don’t concentrate too closely on either of these sounds, yet if neither were present, the silence would perhaps become intimidating and reason enough to ask questions. Coldness would slowly pull off my blanket and I would not be going forward or backward.
I hear the humming of words in the back seat of my mind while I function in my covert occupations. I am caregiver, wife, mother, friend, church parishioner, part-time dog walker and each one of these involve my utmost attention. But….in the undertone, beneath the surface, the voice of the Spirit I hear is saying “This is the way, walk ye in it.” It hums and I keep writing.
Winter is leaving
I can hear the hum of Spring
Beneath frozen ground
dVerse prompt Tuesday is the hum. What is the hum the poet hears, while doing all else that you do? What is your underlying motivation?