An Easter Sunday Reflection


The brisk blue morning whisked in with a thought:

everything in creation rushes, rushes

toward God - tall trees, small bushes,

quick birds and fish, the beetles, round as naught,

eels in the water, deer on forest floor

and we, the spearhead that run on before. . .

So I, with eager voice and news-flushed face,

cry to those caught in comas, stupors, sleeping;

come, everything is running

flying,

leaping,

hurtling through time!

And we are in this race.

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