An Easter Tradition

It’s an annual tradition
Over at Mo’s house,
Every Easter Sunday
Friends and relatives
From near and far
Gather for a barbecue feast.
It starts off with
An Easter Egg hunt
For the little ones.
Brightly colored,
Candy filled,
Plastic eggs
Are carefully hidden
In plain view
By the older children,
Then the toddlers
Are led around
By their mothers
Who diligently point them
In eggly directions.
Afterwards the crowd
Gets down to serious eating.
It’s a carnivore’s delight.
There are steaks and chickens,
Lamb chops and salmon by the slab,
Hot dogs and hamburger patties
Three quarters of an inch thick.
There is an abundance of
Fruits, salads and deserts
Contributed by arriving guests.
As they settle in to eat
They update each other
On what’s been happening
In their lives.
Many of the people
Haven’t seen each other
Since last year’s party.
It’s a time for young mothers,
Convinced of their children’s genius,
To brag of their child’s exploits,
Or to discuss the onset of
The “Terrible Twos!”
It is a time for old friends
To recall the days of yesteryear.
It’s the warmth of the camaraderie
And the skill of the cook
Which bring people back
Year after year.