The stone is not rolled back away as yet;
The sunlight of the sabbath still prevails.
One last sabbath days rest – for Him; we fret
And ponder Friday’s dark and grim details. 
The calendar says “Holy Saturday,”
And Holey, too, if I may so presume.
Our hearts now have a gaping hole today.
As empty as will soon become that tomb.
Alas, that Easter joy is now but hope.
And hope requires joy, though not yet here
It means we wait, we mourn, we cry, we cope.
Until the angel tells us “Do not fear.”
We know the garments soon will lie aside
And once again, He’ll walk the countryside.
Photograph by Kimberly J. Payne