There is a poem by Ian Crichton Smith
TWO GIRLS SINGING
It neither was the words nor yet the tune
Any tune would have done and any words.
Any listener at all.
As nightingales in rocks or a child crooning
in its own world of strange awakening
or larks for no reason but themselves.
So on the bus through late November running
by yellow lights tormented, darkness falling,
the two girls sang for miles and miles together
and it wasn’t the words or the tune. It was the singing.
It was the human sweetness in that yellow,
the unpredicted voices of our kind.
Source: Scottish Poem Book
May you find yourself, this day, together with another – singing.
Singing with raucous voice released by darkness and adventure and the courage that comes with company,
In the human sweetness, with the unpredicted voices of shared struggle and shared hope.