Easter Morning Allegro

The hose end dropped into the pail is all a wobble,

feeding the round and around itself current.

The urgent swirl and swell rushes the rusty rim

overrunning the boundary with joyful abandon!

Crocus buds bursting, opening wombs,

crumbling tombs, the curse reversing, at last in retreat,

the chrysalis ripped by the riotous wing,

the face of the frozen puddle in the street

holding its breath is fracturing.

The earth torn open! The heavens are rent,

unleashing an avalanche unable to be spent,

its blizzard of blossoms crowding the wind

with dragonflies darting out and in.

Up from the canyons, down from the sky!

There is nowhere for the shadows to hide

from this onslaught of Life and the tumbling Love,

nothing in their wake of the dark that was,

disintegrating in the press of Light

breaking the glass, splintering the wood,

tearing the curtain, the eighth day turns into

everything turning into everything good.