20. Apr, 2019

Spring Triduum, Three.

And through the cracks in the eggshell,

the little dove peeps out:

little by little, its muffled voice

announces itself to the world.

Soon it is out, clumsy and wet.

It moves slowly around.

I hold it on the palm of my hand:

it throbs with new life, warm and soft,

tender like a blossom.

Our hearts ablaze under the midday sun.