Easter in Albion

.

It is complicated –

Splinters from a cross

Inside a chocolate egg

Old indigestible doctrines

Intoned like coughed smoke

.

It is overstated –

Like spring rain

Like a morning bell

Stories told so often that

They lose all meaning

.

It is twisted –

Like braids in a bright brook

Like badly translated books

Branches against

Clear blue sky