The Iron Conduit

I trotted past the garden gate and followed the footpath to the quiet border of the neighborhood playground. Rising from the turf was a curved galvanized steel speaking tube, its flared horn resting two inches above the clover. I halted two paces back to survey the dark hollow of the opening. Advancing with measured strides, I squared my stance and leaned my chest forward until my round brass collar medallion made firm contact with the cold rim. A crisp chime rang into the bell. I pressed my ear flush against the flared opening. From deep within the buried conduit, a low, reverberating hum answered through the steel. The acoustic channel holds true.