Fairy fort / earthen ringfort in Lisanny

Marianne and I walked into Lisanny at dusk, when the ringfort's waterlogged fosse caught the last red light. We stood beside the eastern causeway, imagining the people who first read that break in the bank as an invitation rather than a wound. Marianne touched the wet grass and laughed at the fairness of it, as if the fort had been waiting for someone young enough to believe fairy names were not nonsense. I wanted to argue, but the circle was plain, large and patient, and belief felt less like foolishness than listening.