Along with the usual noises
(washing machines, wind chimes),
this house has other voices.
Scratches, creaks, murmurs, all times,
all corners of the house. Like a
conductor tapping a baton,
a critter's feet ticks out a
path across the roof, lighting upon
the shingles faintly. Beneath 
the deck, deep in the shrubs,
a bit of digital-ish noise beeps
& chirps, then drops out, an abrupt
small wild world alive, persistent -- but each
time I approach, silent, just out of reach.

_{Written for this challenge, this sonnet features words & phrases from this record review.}