Ring the Roots, Wake the Sky

The moment when tools will not suffice,
Mind takes over, becomes the device.
Fertiliser won’t do the job – enter ancient technology,
A copper coil and a stick, that was their philosophy.

Plant the crop, lay it down, build the grid in the ground,
Mark the corners, in between – make it so profound.
Pick your sticks two feet long, spiral copper wire,
From base to top, make the top a copper spire.

All is set now, tune them in, like a radio frequency,
March around the plot, humming like a banshee.
Activation through voice, steps and remembering,
Call the Ether, call the ground, call the Spring.

All is set; all is good – just waiting for the food,
Summer hot, water scarce, Ether fed the mood.
Harvest is now – what a crop, bumper’s not the word,
They knew it worked; I do now, without even a turd.

Pure green, pure organic and Mother Earths touch