at night they play music to the plants

at night they play music to the plants

strung from the
curved wooden sky,
strange metallic shapes,
like badly drawn
megaphones
in dolphin grey.

in the early light
they crackle with static.
this hollow repeat,
the only hint
of their nightly role;
a murmur they refuse to give up on.

between the low bulbs,
and the jam of stars on high,
nestled between the dribble of neon
outside,
the plants untroubled by visitors,
unfurl and awake.

harmony slides from
the suspended speakers,
like the kisses
of a lover;
raw and awakening.
pure.

the notes resonate,
stringing crystals in the air.
as each of the plants reaches deep
beneath the soil,
whispering the melody
back to the earth.

as morning
crashes loud and long,
the human volume
shakes the silence.
but the plants, at rest now,
forget not the song.