Without voices, snores, music, shows, papers shuffling, laundry washing
And the precious hours of quiet seep into my heart
To renew old paths by walking down them again.
Not even the literal sound: right now no one else is stirring, snoring, sighing in their sleep.
Yet I feel their presence—their wonderful, warm, love presence—and I designate a thread of attention poised to follow their moments, their movements, their meaning.
But when the house is just for me
—and the dogs—
I can attend to other things, inner and outer and defying that binary.
They’re home now, sleeping, which is best;
and I will savor the next day of silence when it comes.