Easter In The Meadow By The Brook Poem by John Chvirko

Itchy bare legs run and part a vast sea
of high yellow grass.
Is that an egg hidden in the flowers?
It will make five if she gets it;
an extra burst of speed, a
flying leap and she's got it!
Clutching her prize, she nestles
in her garden near the tiny stream
and looks out to see;
reeds girdled by icy water,
reveling in the current - unconcerned,
birds, like skipping stones over a pond
zipping across the meadow - ecstatic,
children, bobbing along the horizon.
giddy in their quest - undaunted
and in the distance, smoke from a chimney
whittles its way into the beau blue sky.
She lingers and squeezes her eyes together
'photographing' this precious moment, opens
them, rises to get back into the hunt but
stops and closes and opens her eyes again
to take another 'snapshot' (just in case) .