It was an Easter Sunday morning,
When peace came tumbling down.

It came without warning.
It came without a sound.

The sun had began its warming,
Where the tulips pierce the ground.

Aside from birds a singing,
There was a stillness round.

On the slopes the snow was melting.
The droplets trickling down.

Each one to the flowing,
Water grist that ground.

Just as each one waking,
Rock of war worn down.

Peaceful thoughts a thinking,
Filled the air without sound.

So they gathered--linking,
And sang their new joy found.

That Easter Sunday morning,
When peace came tumbling down.

Copyright 2002 ©Ronald W. Hull

3/31/02