At day’s end I came to the egg.
I had cried all the tears left in the sac.
Only me and it, and the shadows now.
Did it matter, really, what had happened?
I had magic in my hand. In this egg
lay the seeds of unknown future.
I cradled it. Later I could decide.
This is a flash poem, because blogmeister Mr. Knowitall digs it when people write micro-work for his Flash 55 Fridays, and I dig Mr. Knowitall.
9 comments:
I do indeed dig it.
And I especially dig it when the very talented Enchanted Oak participates.
Loved your 55 Chris.
I always get exceited when I see your Avatar, I then know I'm in for a treat.
Thanks for playing, and have a Kick Ass Week-End
Oh, I love geodes! And poems of possibility. Thank you.
you hold the seed...and you decide what is best done with it...
Oh my- nice work. I don't have any hens that set right now, but I certainly cry over broken shells.
Thunder eggs! Gift of the Volcano Gods. Love the inspiration.
This is really neat.
Your words are the perfect side order for a photo I almost couldn't take my eyes off of!
No stress, decide later. Nice.
A good reason not to put all my eggs in one basket.
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