Writing these poems, I had to forget my questions. To forget, I imagined a humming sound. Rhythmic humming, wrinkled humming, shattered humming. Humming in an empty house where no one is listening. Sound carried over into simultaneous activities like cleaning or walking. Sound without destination. Sound resisting domination or reduction. Leaking from a dark mouth as the outside world rumbles and tumbles on. Containing just enough willpower for a lullaby that puts a loved one to sleep. Lacking any composition, form, or meaning. Barely hitting the right notes. Holding almost nothing. Without lyrics, without a score. But musical, for a brief moment on a sunny day.