Thoughts rock about in Easter season,
Beyond the colored eggs and sweets,
A sense of wonder with cosmic tweets,
An ethereal message like some beacon.
Shining from a place of perfection,
Perhaps an oasis in the dry sky,
Accessed by the soul, if not too wry,
‘Tho there’s no vote or election.
The draw is one of affinity,
Like attracts like, a simple rule,
Drawn by similar mind’s proximity.
Another thing not taught in school,
A kindred spirit has tones of divinity,
Of a tranquility without a whirlpool.
Francis Conlon is a retired and recovering teacher. For the past 20 years, he has worked as a seasonal river ranger and boat inspector at Yampa River State Park in northwest Colorado. He has published in the local Valley Voice and in Westward Quarterly. He currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah.