After the Egg Hunt
I gave him the lavender ribbon
from my hat in exchange for a kiss,
hard boiled egg dyed gold. “Made it special for ya,”
he said, pointing to the gilded treat
laid on bed of green shredded paper
lining the bottom of a white hand basket.
Sitting on the porch, legs crossed
windows open so mama can hear
the call of birds and bees:
his mouth earnest, to my ear
dripping honey, thick shadow of midday
panting the song of my name ’til
daddy (hands like sinewy root of oak)
clutched his starched shirt collar
tossing him, seersucker jacket into the dirt path
leading away from our door.
Suitor tucked tail, ran
hippity hoppity home.