The flick of a switch or spin of a dial
quickens my slumbering solitude
and music and drama and people arrive
flood into my room, a multitude.

On an alien pulsing wave from deep space
comes the rhythm of rap or shipping report.
A voice from the past, a steeplechase,
a celebrity life dissected in court.

Then it’s time to question my bedtime book
and laugh at a clever anecdote.
Fly over the pond with Alistair Cook
or thrill to that Gershwin clarinet note.

But if my radio should whistle and shriek,
I switch off, roll over, and go back to sleep.