I sit here listening . . .

listening to the type type typing of fingers
on a warm keyboard
as cool breezes tickle my elbows and toes.

I sit here listening
listening to outside sounds
insects, dogs, and the passing cars
that are for once not drag racing, yet.

I sit here listening
listening to that quiet
that only comes once all the children
are asleep in their beds.

The house sighs with me.
I sit here listening
listening to the house sigh
of delicate sounds
of evening air
of children's breaths

I sit here listening.

(Michelle Dalrymple, 2009)