An Enigmatic Easter

The Easter eggs nest in their cups, new life all in a row?
No, no, sweet babe, no chickies here, no chickies here will grow.
I know it’s hard to understand; these eggs are not yet done;
You’ll dip them in the colored dish and dye them one by one.
T’morrow we’ll take them to the church and have them blessed by God,
On Sunday when we crack their shells you’ll see it’s been no fraud.
Tonight, sweet babe, rest well and sleep, the eggs will be outshone;
On Easter day our comfort comes, the Lamb’s Resurrection.


I bend and snap closed her pink heart-covered raincoat,
my knees creaking, the fabric swishing.
I sweep back a lock of her wavy blonde hair
and click the purple flower clip into place.
We will rush for shoes and boots and bag.

She cries when she’s tired, only she doesn’t know that’s the reason.
I wipe the salt-drops from beneath her eyes,
some slipping over her cheeks, falling to her belly, or to the floor.
We hug.  She crawls onto to my unsteady, half-squat lap.
I am bending and she is held.