It was the day after Easter and all through our house,
not a White One was stirring, not even for mousse.
The White Dog was napping behind her red chair;
she’d posted a sign “Don’t disturb..or BEWARE!”
YoYo was nestled right next to his lamb
And Nuka was sleeping tucked round like a clam.
Puff on her blankie and Quinn in his bed
settled right down AFTER being fed.
When out at the curb a familiar truck squealed
The mailman was here…so early?...for real?
Away to the window White Dog flew like a flash
But she got no support; the Army collapsed.
“What are you doing? He’s almost here!”
White Dog demanded they all get in gear.
But the White Ones were dreaming of yesterday’s feast
Of cheeses, and salads, eggs, sweet things and meats.
The boring old postman now at the door
Offered nothing but junk mail that dropped to the floor.
White Dog just sighed and for her I felt bad
So I gave her the last bit of egg salad I had.
She climbed on my chair where she rested her nose.
I stroked her soft fur and her eyes started to close.
In the time to read mail, the house quieted again
I looked at my white blessings, and muttered “Amen.”