We had an old player piano when I was a kid, with a cupboard full of very old song rolls to go with it. We would pump that music endlessly. One of my favorites was this song:

“Somewhere the bluebird is singing,
and somewhere the skies are blue…”

It has stayed with me forever. On gray November Mondays, when the world feels weary and fraught, in my mind my little feet still pump, pump, pump.