Sunday, April 24, 2011

Egg hunt

Everywhere, new is hatching.

All over the lawn and in the bushes,

those brightly colored plastic eggs

are filled with chocolate and God,

for the children to find. I break

an egg in a bowl, stir it with a fork,

cook it in a pan. It changes

from wet to firm, and where the liquid

dissolves to, I do not know--perhaps

it's hovering with all the other invisible

things that we regularly discard,

only remembering them

when it rains or we suffer.

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