On Easter morn I woke before dawn
To play the Easter rabbit.
My children's hunt would follow soon,
The yearly Easter habit.

I hid the eggs so colorful
That might have sprung to fowl.
The dewdrops made their colors run
Beneath night's rising cowl.

I hid the eggs with devious skill,
Such mischief overcame me,
And waited with anticipation --
No, age could never tame me.

Although my eldest kids, by then,
Had children of their own,
For whom they hide the eggs themselves,
I still had some at home.

The children's hunt was never begun,
Though I eagerly bid them.
The eggs remain concealed somewhere --
I've forgotten where I hid them.

There was a time when children spry
Searched eagerly for eggs.
The lawn may sprout with chickens soon:
Too old are now the dregs.

© 1974 F.R. Duplantier