A tree falls into a swimming pool. It is early, the morning. The wife is in the kitchen. The dogs through the glass door outside jump up at once. I can’t describe those first seconds. The surface of the pool is or was covered with a thermal blanket, some sort of synthetic solar sandwich, a bold plastic playtime blue. This is or was the sound. The tree covers it. Or so I imagine. I am not there. Her husband could have been swimming, the wife tells me. I listen to her voice. The grandchildren might have been there, she says.…