Ritual Poem by Howard Pipe
Ritual
You will be spending time
like last year, on your knees
raking back the dead leaves,
like a child again.
I watch you
beneath our favourite tree
rummage through the undergrowth,
where fungi spread their spores,
and pick out
the best fruit,
discard those bruised
and out of shape.
You plant kisses
on the weathered bough,
and bring me conkers in a basket
to keep the spiders away.
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8/28/2026 1:58:44 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
