Overturned Moon

The beating of the overturned moon pulses through the trees.
A sap of light sings among submerged trunks.
The sunken city breathes with the tide’s rhythm.
Streets turned into currents reflect silver shapes.
Among the branches, glass bells chant a refrain.
Houses seen from the water form corridors of stars.
Every leaf is an ear for the rising song.
And when dawn arrives, the moon remains to guide the silence.