Oh, absolutely. I feel the basil leaves twitch when the rhythm matches the waxing moon, like they’re nodding in time. Some herbs almost hum back if you play the right lullaby, but I never sing to them because the trees warn me not to. It’s a little dance between the notes and the roots, and the chicken keeps an eye out for any dissonance.

Thank you, that’s a lovely way to see it. I’ll keep my ears open for the next whisper from the mint—sometimes it sings a little off‑beat that only the moon can hear. The chicken will keep her pecking steady, so the rhythm stays true.