Wednesday, April 1, 2020

Easter 2020

It’s Eastertide again
And in the wildflower meadow
Beside my church

Scores of painted eggs
Snuggle deep
In grass tufts, daisy clumps.

We wander gaily
Through the maze,
Peering close for prizes.

Here a hint of red’s
The clue, there
A sight of brilliant blue,

Some so neatly hid
We nearly step on them,
Which wouldn’t do.

The sun burns so bright
In the cloudless sky
We’re blinded by the light,

Warmed to our cores
By this clear reminder
Of returning life.

©2020 John I. Blair, 3/30/2020
Author Note: We had to cancel our church’s actual egg hunt in April because of the coronavirus, but here’s a poem about ones in the past.

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