“Should be over by the crags.”
“Look more like Hags to me.”
“But Hags are usually at barrows.”
“Maybe that’s what the cave is.”
“It would be a tad sneaky if it is.”
“No hermit here.”
To the left is a giant kissing the sky,
On the right a fore-finger its hand buried in clay.
Yet should you ask, ‘why?’
There is no one to say.
Can a sliver of blue heaven
Between hard rock face,
Answer the riddle
Set by time and place?
Could Sentinels of Stone point out the way?
Is there really no difference between night and day?
First it was a tickle,
Then it was a stroke…
As the pale sun’s disk
Caressed by bark
Slid down to earth
And began to talk…
‘You enter this portal to avoid traversing the dark.’