Childhood Easter Sunday

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