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.