Vernal Delight, Vernal Delight

It is the confection insisted upon, those little mallow-based springtide confections—baby sheep, baby chickens, baby bunnies—insisted upon but only briefly, round about Holy Week, being scarce other times—not precious but scarce. They provide a kind of grimaced enjoyment, devoured by the boxful. They nest in pastel wicker baskets, between chocolate malted or marzipan eggs, strands of cellophane grass completing the enbowerment. This is the main tableau on offer, indoors and outdoors: generation, nature naturing, symbolically at least.

The day after Easter and they’ve all jumped shelves, those mallow-based confections, have jumped or been shepherded; cashiers and the Savior arise early. They share tobacco, rollies and packed cigarillos, out back by the dumpsters. Geese chevron northward in the brightening sky. An electric bicycle lays in a puddle, fetal, sparking with vigor. The air about is perfumed with ozone and magnolias.  

As per revised merchandising guidelines, insisted upon by corporate, they jump shelves, these and other confections; they cross aisles, take up various residences, beside the organic travel shampoo and the superhero branded deodorant. Those little vernal tokens, retagged, half price discount or more, sit patiently as the lights go up, ready for purchase, should the desire, already unseasonable, prevail.