I'm taking a brief break from my Easter obligations, which primarily entail (1) purchasing comic Easter items for the amusement of my children (i.e., bizarre blow-up dragons and Windex-blue sugar bunnies); (2) watching my husband photograph the bizarre blow-up dragon arranged on a treasure heap of orange circus peanuts; (3) cooking. I do also think about the resurrection, and I thought of writing out George Herbert's poem "Easter-Wings." But it's a shape poem, and I fear the shape may be distorted by blog formatting; so I will give you Hopkins instead.

Today's breakfast: hot-cross buns, fresh pineapple, colored eggs.

Today's dinner: roast beef, hollandaise sauce, potato and caper salad, sauted cherry tomatoes with garlic, green salad, strawberry tart.

Peace

Gerard Manley Hopkins

When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut,

Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs?

When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I'll not play hypocrite

To own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; but

That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows

Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?

O surely, reaving Peace, my Lord should leave in lieu

Some good! And so he does leave Patience exquisite,

That plumes to Peace thereafter. And when Peace here does

                                                                                         house

He comes with work to do, he does not come to coo,

                                       He comes to brood and sit.