The Hunt

Now dawns the new day
mild sun smiling gently down from cornflower sky,
hint of green on softly sleeping lawn,
distant whiff of blossom coming I imagine.
A day to search
white patent leather shoes racing madly,
gladly,
pink wicker basket trailing dangerously,
stooping
stretching
to look
among the remainder of unraked leaves,
in the cool damp shadow of shrubbery.
Clever dad to hide so them so!
Where are they?

Treasures veiled
Look here! Look here!
It must be here
Pleasure -
Fulfillment -
Hope -
Where? Where?
Scampering as fast as short legs can go in search
in search -
it must be found.

Where is it?
Where is this promise?
Hidden
in dim of darkened heart,
wrapped up in the ghost of broken life, suffering, sorrowing, struggling;
a glint of pearl in faint sun,
a promise
life!
From a tomb, from a cross, from days of anguish and woe,
a morning of joy and giggles and sweetness and dreams

It must be found.