The Little Garden Spoon ghost as if it holds within

as if it holds within it the whispered knowledge of all things that have passed

the unwritten names

still gleam along its length

as if this is no more remarkable than any other task

The Little Garden Spoon ghost as if it holds withinThe spoon is brought out with a kind of ceremony no one names. Not polished, not hidden away either simply kept separate, wrapped in linen that smells faintly of dried lavender and old cupboards. Carys unwraps it at the table while the others are still settling, smoothing the cloth once before setting it aside. The metal catches the light in a softer way than the rest of the service, the edges worn from use that has never been rushed. Its hers,