Easter Saturday - Nils Peterson

[Larry Robinson]

Easter Saturday

Walking the dog
in a cathedral of an afternoon,
not gothic, roman – sky a blue dome
held up by north south east and west.
Even the distant freeway traffic
sounds hushed like the way we talk
in a place that feels sacred.
The dog, however, is as interested
in earthly things as ever. He gives
a worldly woof then me a look that says
“What is, is. No need to get poetical.”
He’s got a good case, and, yet,
it is a cathedral of an afternoon.
again, and, yet,
Easter Morning
I wonder what death in me has risen.
Outside, a rumpus of birds, yesterday’s
strong winds and sharp cold, gone.
The day feels mellow, its light a pale gold,
I sit up in my bed, not quite at ease. I can’t
remember ever believing in the resurrection
of the body, yet, something now struggles out
of the grave, some love of life, of love, of holiness
and some other thing runs to roll the rock aside.

     - Nils Peterson