Fire, smoke,
Heathen folk,
I live my life in miniature.
Contusions eased with daisies,
Soapwort and from comfrey too;
Overtures for unguents.
Nature was once cause and cure
For every man-made affliction;
Long since fields and meadows too
Were ceded for a pound or two,
I’d appeal that you are sure
Of remedies we bore
For illnesses, and a new
Zoonotic dereliction.
Seven Hundred Jisei 