Snow at Easter (Poetry)

Late snow on Easter Sunday
but you won’t see it fall —
glance off indifferent tombstones
flutter by the wall...
it swirls among bare branches
teasing buds held tight
threads itself through grass stalks
vanishes from sight...

Your church seems hunched — grown smaller
poor Spring’s turned up too soon —
come early to the party
her daffodils in bloom
now shudder in the cold wind
huddle by the door
their fragile gowns too flimsy
necks frozen to the core.

The birds have all sought shelter
while flakes like feathers drift
fill the air with movement
as shadow spirits shift
and sway to some far music
floating from on high —
a silent hymn unrolling
across a sacred sky.

Cruel, the hand of Winter
clutching hard at Spring —
bullying her blossom
and spoiling everything...
except the snow can’t settle
and the gloom is torn away
as sun warms for a moment
this bitter Easter day.

A dove coos from the roof top
the sybolism clear —
bringing into focus
what memory holds dear —
the echo hides a chuckle
and a bell begins to ring
for I know in that glad moment
you haven’t missed a thing.