Use that giant sardine key.
Peel back the metal of technology.
Don’t be surprised as you pry,
finding hairy tubers, earth clinging,
blood leaking from a stone.
Who reads the wind?
Wizards who care.
Witches tying knots for sailors.
Who sees the snow before it flies,
and knows by smell, the size of its flake?
Bowland Fells, England 2016