To Accompany the Gift of a Dozen Eggs

[bruorton]

for chaiya


If the world was round
like an egg, what do you think
it would some day hatch

into? Each day is
an egg itself, I suppose,
incubating good

or ill. We've all seen
stillborn potential. We know
that anything can

happen. From a book
on multiple-cat households
Kellyann relates

to me how each spot
added to your house -- a chair,
a rug -- represents

to cats separate
territories; each one a
new option, perhaps

home turf. But to get
back to eggs, what I wanted
to suggest was to

consider when you
eat these eggs, how you will use
their potential. Each

moment (I know you
know) is its own world; each meal,
each visit with friends,

each day (even the
humdrum type), each one a world
waiting to break open.

Comments

omelets

[emusnare.livejournal.com]

Nice! Somehow I missed this last summer. Did you just now hatch it open or was I just not watching carefully enough?

It appears you are missing a couple of stanzas... but I like the yolk at the end.

Re: omelets

[bruorton.livejournal.com]

I post-dated it to about when I wrote it, which is why you hadn't seen it before. (She actually posted it on her own LJ, so I sort of forgot to put it on mine until recently.)

It's not missing stanzas, though -- there's no thematic material to suggest that the stanzas are eggs, if that's what you mean... as far as that goes, I'd say I prefer form to serve content, not dictate it.

I'm glad you like it!

Re: omelets

[emusnare.livejournal.com]

Oh! I was only fooling (and I didn't say I liked it... but I do!)