Those petals of yesteryear
Tapping at the innards
No clear protection
There she was
Reborn and open, crisp to the day
Anomalous
Swept onwards on a breath of clutter
Who supposed she would appear?
Hatchlings by God's own doing?
As curates turn in different directions
Avoiding shells
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11 comments:
in a world like that, i can see how avoiding shells would be a big passtime
birth death its all the same
Like the reference to the curate's egg!
nice pick up of those petals....nice dramtization of the pic...and interesting ponderings in the last stanza as well...
Avoiding shells... hard to do on an island of eggs :) Great imagery your words conjure.
Great use of the prompt, too.
Brings new meaning to ‘treading on eggshells’. I particularly like 'the petals of yesteryear', and who has not felt, at sometime or other, as though they were swept upwards on a breath of clutter?
hi helena: your poem has made me
stop and reflex. writte tenderly and knowingly [word?]
I specially like the second stanza...creative take on the shells and petals ~
Intriguing. Delightful read.
Petal !, animalous hatchling, you have curated this so well
Thoughtful questions and intriguing premise.
Well done!
=)
Here's to hatched hatchlings...
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