I’m keeping a list of Easter Mischief.
It’s growing every day.
I’m to start in the cemetery in the dead of night,
Swapping stories with a crowd of caskets
Before hugging the dirt above Grandma’s grave.
Then, Mischief has told me to loose my grudges
Like a herd of cows skipping out to pasture,
To lay down my cares like a purring kitten.
Before long, I’m to meet the little ones and the weak.
We’re making paper chains to replace the prison bars
And macaroni art for every permanent record.