easter never meant nothing to me except bunnies and eggs and candy. i hated church like hell. only now i can dig the story about the wounded bird ostara found in the woods and healed by changing the bird into a rabbit and the rabbit showing thankfulness by laying eggs as gifts.
let's look at it more helpfully not as a time of crucifiction but a time of fertility, of healing, and renewal.
on the way to the wine shop a woeman in a large silver sports utility vehicle cut me off and so i veered around her and she stopped dead for a full 30 seconds, about thirty times as long as she spent ignoring my life, and as i peered into the free book bin and found cold spring harbor the s.u.v. blared it's vile horn the whole way down the block passing an easter egg hunt and without a sideways glance to see my wounded bird salute.
happy easter.
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