She dances in the moonlight upon the spring filled air.
She's risen from the earth, a maiden-- Oh, so fair!
In the sudden darkness, she smells a fragrance sweet
as God's child Magdalene washes her Savior's feet.
She bows head in sorrow as stone is set in place.
She's hid in her covering to think of such disgrace.
While life stems from silence, she senses brush of wing
as she can hear the choir of angels whence they sing.
She smiles at the soldier who quivers in the quake.
She's rooted in the rock as the earth starts to shake.
As she blooms a flower, light springs forth from the cave
as she alone doth view that Jesus Christ doth save.
-Robert E. Michaud Jr.-