Approaching Quantum Moments by Degrees

Morning. That could be any one
Of the past thousand billion days.

Morning after twelve hours of night.
Well, that narrows it down, but still

In the billions, unless also specifying
A more particular surface space.

Morning seeping through the curtains.
An interior with windows, then,

And that compresses it dramatically
To just a few centuries of days.

Morning, and Bach was playing.
Bach himself? One of the Bachs?

Someone playing Bach? On what?
Harpsichord? Organ in church?

Grand pianoforte in a drawing room?
Or a recording of Bach? Morning,

And daylight seeped into the curtains
To the strains of a recording of Bach.

Ok. Past century. Forty thousand days,
Give or take. What kind of recording?

Analog or digital? It was morning, and
Digitized Bach welcomed the dawn.

Down to decades. With luck, recent Bach
Will give itself away as a stream.

Yes. Another morning, another, another
In the middle of more or less nowhere,

More and more light streaming in the room
And Bach streaming into the air.