the yellow shirt

it was Easter,

i remember that clearly.

the cellophane covered baskets

on the table.

metallic greens and blues,

red.

seven in all,

the chocolates

distributed equally

among us.

the buried painted eggs.

under colored straw.

if there was a favorite

child among us,

we never knew

who it was.

i was wearing a yellow

shirt

on the way to church,

new.

my mother pressed it

for me.

it was button down

and short sleeved.

it was beautiful,

though thin and blousy,

too large. for me.

i remember the day

being cold despite the sunshine,

as we walked to mass

at St. Thomas More.

i refused to wear a coat

despite the wind,

the stark blue

skies full of silver

clouds.

and when the service was

over,

we ran all the way home.