For National Poetry Month, I’m sharing poems each day, one that I’ve written followed by whatever one from three sites that share a poem a day that strikes my fancy that day.

Today’s poem from me is one I obviously had to post today:

Easter Morn

My grandfather rises from the grave
to embody the man in the pew in front of me.
It's the scent of Camels, Aqua Velva mixed,
the Confederate-grey blazer that doesn't fit,
the drop of sweat just beneath the ear
like when my grandfather played steel guitar,
or that keyboard my aunt and uncle gave him
the Christmas before he passed away.
It's how he reaches down, pats the head
of the little girl beside him and smiles,
how my grandfather tousled my sister's hair,
or how when he presses his hands together
to pray, his hands appear time-wrinkled
like my grandfather's. When he closes his eyes,
he looks so calm and peaceful.

Today’s poem from someone else is one I felt I had to share today: “Easter, 1916” by William Butler Yeats.