Dishwasher

When I listen to an empty room
And hear the music of technology
It seems--at least it always seems to me--
That what I would imagine lonely gloom
Is vibrant; as a long-forgotten tomb
Serves as the ground for new fertility
When seedlings root on its immensity
Bursting at last in gorgeous verdant bloom
So sound erupts out of the silent air
Reminding me I cannot be alone
Unless I choose it, as I sometimes do.
But there is lively music everywhere
If we but listen to the undertone
And hear the world we made for us anew.