Precious little girl
First we play inside
Then we play outside
Then we have to come back out
I glory in her energy
Her determination in youth
Her energy restores me
Vibrance I had lost
Young in spirit
I celebrate a rock thrown into the water
Weeding becomes a project
Bonds us in memory forever
While my old, aching body
Remembers working together
Back indoors we go
Snack time

Can you feel it?
Vibrating up to the universe
My soul sings in joy

Daughter of Ishtar who creates new life
come in darkness of long winter sleep
and cast rays of light to warm our hearts
to wake souls from sleep in frozen snow.

Descend on beams of glowing sunlight
sweet mother Ostara who gives new life
and kiss our hearts with your apple lips
to wake souls from sleep in frozen snow.

Spirit of Inanna creator of life after death
scatter seeds to sprout flowers and trees
in soil of our hearts warmed by your kiss
to wake souls from sleep in frozen snow.

Complete poem here:
http://open.salon.com/blog/surazeus/2010/04/04/hymn_to_mother_ostara

I didn’t follow the prompt. As the kids finished dying eyes on Saturday, my youngest approached me to show off his favorite egg. Here’s my response:

Easter Life

Proudly he shows his egg
dyed greenly-blue–
a small earth
of continents and seas
enclosed in his palm.

Child, you hold a world:
beneath colored surface
the boiled skin glistens whitely,
encircling sterilized yolk–
a life once possible.

Your life, mine–
all life now possible,
enclosed in His palm
because,
as sun peeps between hills
the stone unhinges,
revealing His deserted tomb.

This one’s pretty blatantly inspired by the prompt, but I had a lot of fun writing it.

http://self-intoxication.deviantart.com/art/Ephemera-159617106

Somehow,
when I wasn’t looking,
you learned to brush
your own hair.

You stretch your neck
just so, arching like
those women in movies
we won’t let you watch.

You tug without pulling,
pull without tugging,
and the tangles give way
like yellow grasses
bending for a breeze.

I squint at your reflection,
trying to find the face,
eager for Easter,
I saw this morning,
but all I see is your
concentration,
your competence,
your confidence;
the face of a kid
superimposed
on the face of my child.

So tonight,
when you gruffly
grabbed the brush
and said, “Daddy,
let me do it myself,”
I thought I heard you say,
“Daddy, I don’t
need you anymore.”

Love Kills Slowly

In this odd small world
Supreme Court Justice
Kermit the Frog announces

we will no longer wait
for anyone to quietly
accept the judgment

of skulls wearing top hats.
Instead, we will conduct
interviews with anyone

who’s smelled the roses
on the long-sleeve t-shirt,
which claims that “Love

Kills Slowly,” the way everything
becomes more important
simply because we’re told it is

and we choose to believe.