Spring

In the low crook of a tree
that blossomed white
in my brother's yard this week,
a robin had made a nest,
and my niece found three blue eggs,
mildly speckled and the same size
and color as her wide eyes.

Life beginning again
in the branches,
in the nest,
in my brother's children.

Easter.
Colored eggs and
kids searching
in the nooks and hidden places
for these speckled reminders
that life goes on again after
the death of Winter has taken
life from the Tree.




(People who live in modernity, who have separated themselves from the seasons and nature significantly, often ask what children hunting for colored eggs has to do with Easter. This moment with my niece answered them.)