Sounds that came into the world in my lifetime        
already sound old-fangled: dial-up modems,
the implosion of a television tube 
in a set dropped from a high window. Green geeks
go digitally capturing lyrebird gronks
and atavistically soothing aggregates
of infinitesimal sonic events
like pine needles rubbing in ruddy darkness 
or droplets falling back into the ocean.
Grist to the mill of the marvelous creatures
firm in their briefly shared belief that music
is all around us, even in chords hammered
on a Wurlitzer electric piano