Easter eggs, the hunt we’re on, to find what is concealed.
Searching under, over what has been duly sealed.
Expectancy peaks high that morn, awake in time – kid power.
All hiding places in the home become enjoyment’s hour.
Hidden in another place, a shell broken in two.
The outward form in life of Christ brought all the riches through.
On Easter morn, in searcher’s mood, jubilant our room.
Not earth’s own gifts can match its wealth; God’s gift hid in a tomb.