Listening To Dad Perform

There is a certain natural rhythm to pre-dawn, a sort of humming chirp, a rolling soft ring.  It is background, but lyrical.  I imagine it is insects reminding me that Whoever conceived of rhythm is Very Kind.  During my morning listening I can also hear the din of commerce, I-40, no rhythm but only the clamor of business and man.  Slowly the soft rolling ring of rhythm returns and with it a smile comes to my face of a son listening to his Dad perform.