Local Eggs
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.
12 thoughts on "Local Eggs"
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Love this! Sounds like the eggs we get from the Farmers Market. And how you would thank the chicken – priceless! It’s a beautiful tribute to eggs and chicken!
Thank you so much🪺here’s to fellow poets and the incredible edible egg!
I love how descriptive this is! It makes me want to meet that chicken, too.
Where can we find her—maybe the name of chicken could be on the carton!
Fascinating eggs and chicken
Very nice – we raise chickens and the eggs are a delight to hold, warm still, so individual, and they do tast great. Nice odes to the egg here!
How wonderful to get them fresh out your backyard! I didn’t know they were warm. I especially like odes and thank you for reminding me this counts for one!
Beautiful work of art. I love the description of colors.
Yes omelets! Must make one soon. Thanks 🪺
Thank you—the colors of the eggs were so surprising to me and started the poem thinking.
I LOVE THE EGGS AND COLORS. WHAT A WONDERFUL OMLET!
Yes omelets! Must make one soon! Thanks🪺