Easter Time

He was here
then was gone
in more than a poof
rabbits still hop
in the early morning
dewy grass
and hens cackle
when smooth eggs
are forgotten and
left for children
to gather
after those who knew
first dye the shells
with colors of
soft rainbows
and think thoughts
of long ago
with new ideas
of spring gardens
seed packets
now empty 
and in dark earth
are but summer dreams
of a fiery red tomato
that I bite 
and taste
juicy ripe
sweet life
seedy with a touch
of remembered love
on a hot
august day.