After the kids find their chocolate bunnies
in pastel baskets with fake green grass,
after the jelly beans planted last night
magically turn into lollipops at dawn,
I listen to them cheeping in the living room
gaps of silence then and an uproar of chatter.
This is the sound of happiness: two kids
in conversation, all present tense, wonderfully broken,
like the fine clicking noises of squirrels,
high-pitched banter, a brother-sister repartee
with the laughter that comes from total and utter glee.
My early risers, their dialogue is meaningful only to them.
About what? Coloring books and waffles,
maybe Easter dinner at Nonna’s, where the talk
is more akin to cross-examinations by grownups.
I am privy today to the secret lives of these children
as they play without want or ire,
happily entertaining themselves,
with no idea that anyone at all is listening.