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A sprawling, confessional Easter meditation that begins with a failed gift plan derailed by an Alpha-Gal attack, pivots through recovery and longing, and arrives at the Easter egg as a metaphor for vulnerability, childhood wonder, and the courage to present oneself fresh and unshielded to someone who matters.
This is Plahm at his most nakedly autobiographical. The poem opens mid-conversation (“Howdy! / What’s on your mind?”) and immediately confesses: a planned Easter gift was abandoned when illness struck. The details are visceral and specific—ingredients stared at, then frozen; the poet wishing he could join them in the freezer; “that Wednesday terror” arriving without warning. From this raw accounting of illness and disruption, the poem pivots to what survived: the longing for the beloved’s smile, commentary, wisdom, and simple presence. The extended Easter egg meditation that follows transforms a child’s holiday symbol into a layered metaphor. The egg becomes innocence, tradition, protective shell, scrambled interior, and ultimately a choice: present yourself as a defended old egg or a fresh one. The line “Just crack me in a pan and cook me. / EVOO, please” is vintage Plahm—vulnerability cut with self-deprecating humor. The poem’s emotional center arrives when the speaker chooses the fresh egg: “A suit, tie, trimmed hair, fresh shave— / with optimism for the future.” The closing revelation—”I am still that child”—reframes the entire poem as an argument that wonder and humility don’t diminish with age but deepen into wisdom. The beloved is named as the heartbeat behind all of it, transforming an Easter apology into a love declaration.
A deeply personal, emotionally generous poem that trades structural discipline for raw honesty—and the exchange is both its strength and its limitation. The opening confession of a failed Easter gift derailed by illness is disarming in its specificity; the frozen ingredients and the wish to join them in the freezer are images that could only come from lived experience. The extended egg metaphor is surprisingly versatile—Plahm draws from it innocence, protection, fragility, scrambled chaos, and the choice between presenting a defended self or a vulnerable one. The “EVOO, please” line is perfectly placed comic relief, and the suit-and-tie image of presenting oneself fresh carries genuine emotional weight. The closing identification as “still that child” is moving, especially following the raw illness narrative—wonder persists despite physical devastation. Where the poem challenges the reader is in its length and associative looseness; the conversational style, while authentic, means the piece meanders through digressions that dilute momentum. The “Wednesday terror” is referenced but never fully contextualized for readers unfamiliar with the poet’s AGS episodes. Some middle passages (“Timelessly important. / Or importantly timeless… / Absolutely both.”) circle their point rather than advancing it. Still, the poem’s emotional authenticity is undeniable, and the egg-as-self metaphor achieves surprising richness. A poem that proves the best gifts are sometimes the ones that fail and become something else entirely.
Howdy!
What’s on your mind?
I had this grandiose idea for an Easter present for you.
It was a silly thing I thought of a couple of months ago.
But—
in the best of intentions of simplicity.
The basis and all the incidentals—I did get.
But—
I’d been staring at them and walking by them after the attack came.
Put them all in the freezer a couple of days later.
And for the week after that Wednesday terror,
I was wishing I could join them in the freezer.
My thought will never get done in time. I knew.
So—
we pivot. Something?
I missed you while I was half gone.
Mis-gone?
I missed your beautiful smile.
And your commentary and instruction.
Your wisdom and direction.
And just—being in your presence.
How *mis-*everything is that?
I think…
I’m starting to relax.
That spring in my body is unwinding.
The huge tension knot in my neck and back—
getting smaller and smaller.
Where the hell in hell did that Wednesday even come from?
We’ll see how it goes
with some corrections we don’t know what to do.
The “Idea” of an Easter Egg
Colorful.
Playful.
Dancing with innocence.
Simplicity in meaning.
Heavenly in playfulness—
a child’s pursuit of discovery and wonder.
Pretty incredible for all young innocents to discover.
Meaningful and…
Timelessly important.
Or importantly timeless…
Absolutely both.
The magic of mystery and wonder—for a child.
A future presented
in a delicate
but common
package.
For us “Adults”?
Still magic.
In memories.
Emotions.
Celebrations.
And continuations of traditions.
Am I still a child?
To gift an egg—to someone important?
Even not a “Child”?
Maybe a child at heart?
Why not?
What joy I still have in living and gifting traditions.
My shell?
Protective.
Built up.
Life’s harsh lessons,
and life’s harsh realities.
Struggling to crack an old egg without breaking the yolk.
I’m just scrambled inside, like an egg shaken and stirred.
Just crack me in a pan and cook me.
EVOO, please.
Easy to color and decorate an old egg—
present it as a defensive shield.
But I choose
to present a fresh egg.
A suit, tie, trimmed hair, fresh shave—
with optimism for the future.
And a beautiful Lady to celebrate that newfound “Egg” of thought with.
And I mean a Beautiful Lady—
inside and out.
That has meaning.
If I can escort her,
I am honored every time.
Even just to the grocery store.
That’s how important you are.
That magic I felt.
A long, long time ago.
Honestly, innocently, timelessly important.
I am still that child.
That Easter Egg of childhood
has become a lesson of humility.
We know what that “Egg” can bring.
Both good and bad.
But this good—
is amazingly overwhelming.
You!
You are the heartbeat
for all this… emotion.
It’s Life we hope we live to the best.
What’s presented is a
Chocolate Easter Gnome Garden.
Simplistic.
But heartfelt.
What is Easter?
I hope it’s about renewal,
newfound hope,
and belief.
And celebrating those who are special—
a treasure in our personal lives.
I see a star in heaven.
Maybe mine.
It might be yours.
But it shines
brightly
with optimism.
I can only know peace when I see that—
and share it.
I hope you know:
you are a garden.
Always blossoming.
Always gifting my life
with beauty,
hope,
and inspiration.
Is that Easter?
Is that my Easter Egg?
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