I hear . . .

. . . cars coming and going on their way to somewhere

. . . the flatscreen blaring

. . . the cat’s meow

. . . the smile in my husband’s voice

. . . that still small voice within

. . . the dog’s sad heartbreaking cry from way down the street

. . . the hummingbird’s wings flapping as it whizzes by

. . . the squirrels chattering and chasing each other around the trees

. . . the bluejays squawking at one another

. . . too many crows noisily circling overhead

. . . the clocks ticking in unison

. . . the icemaker dropping ice into a tall empty glass with drama

. . . the clocks chiming on the hour in sync

. . . the beeping at the door to let us know the alarm is working, that a door is opening somewhere in the house

. . . the air conditioner kicking in

. . . the repetitive voices of the neighbors talking on their back patio

. . . the low hum of the cool fan

. . . the long quiet moments in the meadow between animal menagerie noises

. . . the constant rustling of summer breezes

. . . pine and oak leaves following the wind

. . . flowers gurgling water to satisfy and feed their thirst on a watering day

. . . the restless sigh of my breath

. . . my heart beat

. . . the bell ringing around Whisper’s furry neck

. . . my late mother’s voice echoing in my head saying “you can do anything you put your mind to” with determination in my veins

. . . my husband’s relaxing sigh as he lays back comfortably in his recliner with snores following soon after for a late morning nap

. . . the ongoing friction of the neighborhood barking quartet

. . . the turning off of lights with alarms sounding on

. . . as another acorn falls on the back deck

. . . and the sweet purrings of our cat, Whisper, begins

. . . to the rhythm of the cpap machine close by

. . . in the quiet of the evening as the moon finds its way and lights up the sky

• 

/lr