The carton of eggs–
sage, pale blue, spotted,
taupe, milky white, almost
lavender–
a dozen delicate shells,
a work of art,
the yolks
deep yellow saffron
best scrambled eggs ever–
who is this chicken?
I want to meet her. Thank her.
Give her a watermelon rind,
a carrot top, 
weave the scratchy hay in her coop
into pillows, listen to her
hum and cluck softly
as the moon waxes and wanes,
keep the red foxes away.