Easter bounced in and out last Sunday.
I didn’t see many rabbits on the street. Only one.
He was dressed as a squirrel and scampered into the backyard.
He flicked his tail and chirped madly to himself
when he discovered the eggs wrapped in pastel foil 
hidden in the flower beds.
I was worried. The foil could kill him.
The chocolate, too if he reacted like a dog.
Dogs can die if they eat chocolate. Maybe squirrels, too.
I felt a few seconds of remorse, then
I got a gleam in my eye,
from the light bouncing off an egg.
Calvin says, “Your nasty is showing.” 
