GOOD FRIDAY
On this day, I sit so still
As if I’m stalking the earth.
It is a good Friday, any way you slice it.
My eyes open and close to sunlight
And shadow-then wind and stillness.
With early clouds floating by,
I tune in
to songbirds and wait
For new colorful wings to arrive.
Sun hits
my legs, hot and burning,
Till a
breeze returns, cools me
And flips the pages of my opened book.
Spring
endures, regardless of what I believe
On this
breezy Friday before Easter.
In a
straw lined bowl on the counter,
The hardboiled eggs, dyed and arranged
Wait to
be tapped and rolled on Sunday
Uncovering the opaque white that protects
The golden prize inside.
MSW
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