Warmed under wings of unholy ghosts
On Holy Saturday the candy eggs
Hatch and holler "buy me"
From their cellophane sacks.
And in the night the children sleep
Tucked in plastic beds
With candy ducks in plastic grass
Quacking in their heads.
But in the April dawn
They enter the cool light of living rooms
Where color blooms in the corners.
Green beneath the chairs, scarlet in the cushions,
In its shadows the room hides sweetness like a tree.
For an instant the children wait surprised,
As women in an unexpected spring might wait
Before trilliums, and the singing birds,
And the emptiness of tombs.