Poem: Easter Morning


It’s early on an Easter morn.
The sun has yet to rise.
A bird nearby begins to sing,
And soft clouds fill the skies.
I think of Jesus on the cross
And in the garden there,
And how they laid Him in a tomb
With tenderness and care.
Then on a morning such as this—
The day was young and new—
Jesus rose and lived again.
I know that this is true.