A Change In Their Voices

Sitting in my tree house on a perfect day I am listening to the neighbors as I read seven library books I am twelve, and this is my summer joy, seven is library's daily limit. We are at the top of two cottonwood trees where my daddy built my tree house. My twin sister has given up trying to lure me inside She knows I will come down to go swimming in the afternoon But this is my time between gardening and swimming and no one bothers me I pause occasionally to listen to the silly conversations of two neighbor women Who have met at their clotheslines to talk This time is different. There is a change in their voices. They begin to yell at each other. I scoot closer to my window to hear better. They are really angry. I wonder if they will come out at the same time tomorrow To their communal clothes lines. One does not come out the rest of the summer Probably using a dryer, which Iowa woman do not usually use in summer. I use my imagination to fill in the blanks. But I am only twelve, and I do not know much about life yet.