Easter Sunday

Good Christ to be there
At the beginning
As pistol shot rings out
Announcing the
Race back to life

Supplicant in the soil
My spade unwieldy
For the filigree
Of first growth

Instead my fingers
Follow the Pilgrim trail
Tracing the green line of
Renewal as it radiates
Up and out

Oh hologram of
Light and life

Into the very heart
Of purple madder
The asparagus shimmers
A perfectly formed
Whisper of its
Future self

The strawberry leaf
Blinks and unfurls
Stutter stepping
Across the threshold

I am dumbstruck
By the intrepidity
Of perennial life
Unleashed and still
Quivering with the
First taste of vernal light