Sometimes too chilly for much fun
No matter how bright yellow sun
Hunting eggs while garbed in dresses
Such strange context, these together
When, every day before play, we
Changed into “play-clothes” so as not
To dirty the schoolyard ‘dress clothes’—
Which, then couldn’t be passed on to
Those in wait behind us, they not
Knowing this day will come to them
Wear it then, this Sunday special
Once per year, in celebration
Of comeback, restoration, fair
Blossoms and new life united
Its astounded discovery:
Light of day’s cold yellow sun
Life's Poetic Essence 