Psalm Sonnet 3: Quivering Lips

Too much of the time, I talk with
Our distance ringing in my ears.
As though our houses were over
A stiff hill from one another.

The round of the horizon wafts
Our words out to the atmosphere.
A kind of weightless inertia
Makes me expect you will not hear.

But today you reached me. The quake
In your voice gave away your ear