There are sounds
The occasional car racing by
Far too quickly for a residential street
The refrigerator
Running
And I am not about to chase it down
The whispered wavering noise
Of a ceiling fan
Settling of boards
And the bed
And those in it
As my daughter
Not yet fully awake
Climbs in beside my wife
And submerges again
Into the somnolent sea
I add to the chorus
Percussive hand-work annotating
Contribute to the quiet symphony
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