The tree of my ritual was old and tall,
though not a true giant;
the next one may be, but needn't.
It possessed consequence in its bough
and the places around it,
which may have been occupied
for one of any number of reasons.
It was a fine tree, and my ritual was,
I hoped, appropriately reverent.
Respectful, yet uneasily godless,
my incantations whispered
with...
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