When my house is quiet, I hear
the hum of vehicles on the highway
the chirping of birds outside my window
a dog barking in the canyon, as though his owner has just returned

When my house is quiet, I hear
the scratch of a pen against paper
the bend of the page as it fills
the whisper of breath on my lips

When my house is quiet, I hear
the rumble of an airplane turned north
the tap of an insect against the pane
the neighbor’s little boy, squealing in delight

When my house is quiet, I hear
life