Intramurals
  
  
 All up and down the quiet street, lights wink
 off and on. Windows open and then close:
 soft breath of houses. Days flow like ink.
 Birds are thrilled. Buds form on our glauca rose.
  
 Quiet reigns in the mostly silent streets.
 I read that seismologists note worldwide
 how reduced human hum reveals world beats
 unheard before we chose to move inside,
  
 agreed seclusion was a social gain,
 could flatten curves of infection and death.
 At first, we felt relief. Then mounting pain
 of separation. And now? We find sweet breath
  
 each morning, find peace within our own walls,
 listen to morning wisdom of bird calls.
  
  
 Leslie Schultz