A vigil, no, simply quiet reflection

Minutes before midnight, with all asleep

Little Liesl-Dog perhaps dreams of squirrels,

For she has chased and barked them all the day;

The kittens are disposed with their mother

After an hour of kitty-baby-talk,

Adored by all, except by Calvin-Cat,

That venerable, cranky old orange hair-ball,

Who resents youthful intrusion upon

His proper role as object of worship.

All the house settles in for the spring night,

Anticipating Easter, early Mass,

And then the appropriately pagan

Merriments of chocolates and colored eggs

And children with baskets squealing for more

As children should, in the springtime of life.