Striking

Lately, this house hears clearer sounds.

Doors closing and cars backing out

a pair of feet hurrying past

the other fixed on the floor.

Last night, the neighbors reminded us

it’s summer.

Their laughs snuck through the walls.

Faint, though,

and dying by the time it reached our side.

The last time this house heard words

they were loud and sharp.

Blame, then self-cover

shame, then conjecture.

At last, a crescendo.

This house hears better since.

It’s so quiet this morning,

it struck me when I left.