A man and a woman in a backyard,
a cool Easter morning, after church.
They are younger than they were,
darkened eyes fixed for surprises,
with Lent just behind them
and winter far ahead. Their lips are tight,
the way lips are that have shared
a happy privacy or recently have sung.
How right to have her hand rest
in the crook of his arm. How sure,
the leaning in, how slight and just
enough. We could frame the moments
of their standing as our own, the way
they’re ready for confidences, the tricks
of time and place they’ve passed. Their faces
welcome us to secrets we will come to know.