Purple gave way to joyful white,
lilies looked altar perfect,
the choir resurrected hymns.
Facing priest, we followed him,
sat, knelt, stood, prayed together,
kept a Latin-metered rhythm.
Sermon sent a stern reminder:
clothes do not define the day,
nor bunnies, nor jelly beans.
Communion broke long fasting,
confessed received wine-dipped Host,
sinners sat wooden in pews.
Priest: Dominus vobiscum
Us: Et cum spiritu tuo
Priest: Ite Missa est.
“Lord be with you,” “And with you,”
“Go, you are dismissed,” he said.
We replied: “Deo Gratias.”
“Thanks be to God!” How very glad,
and new I felt in spring-bright coat,
and cute, flowered-straw bonnet.
Though Simplicity sewed my dress,
I proudly strolled home, patent
leather dangling, t-straps tapping.
Dormant gardens had begun
displaying the work of bulbs,
they bloomed with color, like me.
Mom always went early to Mass,
I knew she’d be cooking dinner,
but I looked forward to chocolate.
Elaine Anne Westheimer 
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