At night the ivy cinches around the trees, encourages them to pull up roots and leave.
At night the trees go walking down the streets at the tug of ivy,
down the streets and up the streets, they leave, leaves swaying at the tug of the moon.
The nests and bugs and all the living things, the twittering things,
they sleep, they sleep in the sway of the branches, in the silver small tug of the moon.
At night while you're sleeping, breaths whispering in dark rooms,
the trees are dancing now, together, a waltz in the black night, sleep now, sleep now,
in the silver small tug of the moon.