By Gala
Date: 15 April 2001
Easter Ridge
The sun is slanting over the Ridge,
a fast burn of the morning mist,
and I am woken by a handful
of something tickling my nose.
Easter basket grass!
You lay one finger over my lips
to stem the protest,
look over the loft edge,
and my eyes vow revenge
when our task is complete.
In stocking feet we creep down,
past the small neat sleeping one,
her arms akimbo,
a small smile teasing her
in a dream.
Armed with baskets of goodies
we slip out
and start to plant
foil eggs,
and rabbits
chewy chicks
bunnies
and all manner of dentist delighting
bad for the teeth child pleasers.
We got too much,
I say---
and you silence me with a kiss
that I don't even try to protest.
I'll meet you inside,
you say
and I toss you a
"What are you up to now" look
that you promptly ignore.
I wait inside
an inverted child at christmas
desperate to wake her
and begin...and finally you come,
with a look on your face
that tells me I'm in trouble.
Hand in hand we wake her,
and grab a hug
before she leaps for her clothes
and bounds out the door,
squealing
and I hear the sounds I expect
with each discovery---
and then silence?
And a shriek of pure joy.
A PUPPY!!!! A PUPPPY!
You are dead, I say calmly,
and you just grin at me,
hand me one red red tulip
and shrug.
Every girl needs a dog...
you begin---
And i kiss you hard
hug you,
and go out to see
what she has named
your lastest surprise,
not shocked in the least
when she calls him Easter,
to mark her first Spring
with us at the Ridge.
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