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All the color.
All the flavor.
I started hiding them,
like my mother did every Easter.
On dusty ledges
high and low.
In tin cups.
Soap dish.
Picture frames.
Some of these little
smooth pebbles
lay in places to be
found during the next
major cleaning.
What would Jesus do
With these tiny gems?
Maybe He would hold
them in his palm and roll
them around and smile.
He might see all the color,
taste all the flavor.
He would think of you.
That yellow one is the sunshine
that rolls around your face.
That green one would be the
curving curiosity of your heart.
That white one would be
the stone you brought home
from Lake Michigan and put
under your pillow.
That marbled pink and red
one that imbued your
sensitivity and passion.
The blue sky that you
look up to every chance you
get lays rolling from rim to rim.
Each one passing over His
life line, moving, rolling
like a stone away from a tomb.
His lips purse, then relax
a gentle smile.
GAB Easter 2010
Gerald the Writer 