Since one dictionary says that the definition for “sing” is “to make musical sounds with one’s voice”, it would seem that all of us are singers when we speak. Unless we say words in absolute flatness, our words rise and fall in subtle but sometimes very noticeable rhythms. Every spoken sentence is a song, if I listen with attentiveness. When someone speaks of sorrow, the spoken song is usually a slow one, with a melody that moves like sadness does. When the words speak of gladness, there’s a supple and lightsome sound in the spoken sentences, like a melody made for a lighthearted song. Even the plainest and most modest among us speak words that sing precisely the moods we’re feeling, and even those of us who have never sung a “real” song make our special music with every spoken sentence. I just need to listen. There are spoken songs shared with me each day – by store clerks, by passersby, by anyone wanting to pass around a few thoughts in words spoken with the simple cadence of sincerity.