justwrite 12 april

driving down the road i am searching for easter eggs those perfect beautiful colors numberless and waiting in the shadows there are surprises and i am trying to surprise them flipping through scrapbooks and among socks there are clocks but they are irrelevant there is no limit on my time except the end and no one knows about that no way no how no time like the present i give myself i live myself fully fooling my pockets into thinking they are holding secrets i have forgotten like the milk that should have expired but still it is appearing kindly in cereal installments waiting until some other day when there is no coffee there is no size to my basket no task too large i am reaching out for the chocolate the pennies the jellybeans in glossy realism stuck between my teeth or almost there no rush no rush just get there first and would anyone else recognize what they are looking for is different what they are reaching into the forsythia for is for them to find i am winding my way through the daffodils and i am spilling expectations into the new green grass there are to-do lists but i am grasping at the sunshine and the jewelled pastels the pastures i will not pass by the ingredients being gathered and i am still looking and i am finding what was never lost just tossed gently elsewhere or on ahead waiting for the light to catch my eye and lead me on blindly