Our ritual is unchanging.
Before the meal
we walk in our neighboring woods.

Today the snow is everywhere,
    melting into mud and pools
    that bar our path.
The youngest, puppylike, run in and out
    of our slow peaceful procession.

The slanting sun warms us as we turn toward home
    laughing, flushed, hungry in the early dusk,
moving forward to the Paschal lamb

hearing the resurrection call of the peepers.

Lari Smith