Mystery

[heslopian]

Walking down a cul-de-sac
I passed a little house today,
with gray paving slabs as decoration
in the front garden.

Dotted among them were orange segments,
perfectly quartered, grown stale from age.
The arrangement was too definite for it to be an accident,
a child playing dice with his snack.

What do they mean? I wondered.
A strange ritual in worship of Gods
known only to the homeowners?
Perhaps at night they choose a fruit

from a bowl on the kitchen table,
then divide it carefully, each taking turns with the knife,
while reciting esoteric psalms.
Then maybe the mother, wearing her bed clothes,

gathers the resulting bundle in her hands, steps onto the slabs,
barefoot proceeds to kiss each piece,
before placing them like a blackjack dealer.
Life is full of unanswered questions, I thought while imagining this.