Easter Morning After Rain
The warm sighs of the grass’s love.
Glad shouts of puddle-kissed children.
Clouds, surrendering, join the dance.
Bright flowers blaze with holiness.
Insects hum, alive with new hope.
All around us, death becomes youth.
Some things we have known from our youth.
Always there was the knowledge of love
or its lack: even outcasts hope
to be wanted; beaten children
two orphans together may dance.
All of nature sways in a dance.
Clouds become art for maid and youth.
Trees shake down drops of holiness.
The wind whistles a song of love.
Horses stand proud with their children.
And the very air swells with hope.
From our first days we felt this hope,
and learned to sing and clap and dance.
Somehow we knew, though yet children,
that He who had given us youth
would also give us all the love
we need to live in holiness.
The world wakes to holiness.
Cardinals and thrushes talk of hope.
The sun bathes us in rays of love.
Crickets sing and butterflies dance.
The earth steams with the strength of youth.
And old eyes twinkle at children.
This day we are made God’s children,
We share the cup of constant youth,
And break the bread of eternal hope.
We take our place in the saints’ great dance,
And welcome God’s glorious love.
On Easter, our hearts dance in hope
of holiness... washed in God’s love,
wrapped in youth: forgiven children.