Easter Ode

 

Amongst the myriads of odes ere written

From cross to tomb, or womb to sun-kissed Spring

Across time’s ever reaching tribute,

This special time is etched in angel’s wings.

 

It matters not that faith may sometimes waver

Or quick denial purse one’s lips to thin

None can deny this time of special savor,

Of somber quietus to the sprightliness it brings.

 

The earth is tuned to its own eternal music

So celebrate we will

Forsaking past to grasp the joy of friendship

Gifts of smiles for cross or eggs, or chocolate baskets filled.