poetry

Trees & Eggs

Trees & Eggs

finally I give away something we don’t use
to someone who doesn’t have it:
plastic Easter eggs
I haven’t filled in years –
our sun reducing the contents to chocolate puddles
before the cousins could even assemble
no, all we do now is hide the hard-boileds

today we tint the thin white shells
in spring shades
ready to disappear them into the waking-up grass
we save the chocolate for the basket
safe in the shaded confines of our roofed house
high on a table safe from dogs’ jaws

today I start reading Nine Ways to Charm a Dryad
at the cabin and am overcome –
it’s been so long since I lived in forest –
(36 years) –
so long I hadn’t guessed we’d reunite

all I can say’s
thank you God for all these blessings

all I can do is
bless myself with spring water
shake the grandfather tree’s branch
open my heart
and let the forest take up residence
in that long-vacant cavity

poetry

morning eggs

morning eggs

you never know
how the world may delight you next

today it’s the two
still-warm eggs
plucked from the coop
while still fired
with the heat
of being inside
nestled against a beating heart

now outside
for all to appreciate
their smooth mysterious perfection
(each utterly different)

poetry

egg gathering

egg gathering

put your hand
deep into the dark
feel around
for something smooth
draw back out
cradling a warm sphere
made of echoing rings
little wondrous worlds
rich nourishment
to fuel your waking