easter egg hunt

you remember
the competitive violence
of the Easter egg
hunt out in the cold
blue grass
of someone's
scrub brush front yard.
the plastic eggs
holding quarters
or nickels,
tucked in the arms
of bare trees,
pathetic pennies
in a pink egg
hidden in a downspout.
it was the red faced
race of children
hopped up on
marshmallow chicks
hardened under
sugar, their
teeth stained with
the bitten ears
of milk chocolate
bunnies running,
scurrying, bumping into
one another
for those bright
blue and yellow eggs
clinking with
change.