A fragile robin’s egg lies in my path, unbroken <br /> <br />about forty-five feet below it’s mother’s nest. <br /> <br />Stepping over the unseen fetus, the first rays <br /> <br />of dawn reflected it’s tranquil blue, cooler than <br /> <br />the required mother’s 104 degree feathered belly. <br /> <br />No more than fourteen short days before escape <br /> <br />from that hollow inside to inevitable blue skies. <br /> <br />Then, there must be feedings every fifteen minutes. <br /> <br />Impossible to even contemplate. <br /> <br />Now late for my classroom full of disabled <br /> <br />children, also demanding attention, slowly learning <br /> <br />their way out, I hurry along surprised <br /> <br />to find my palm cradling a tiny blue shell.<br /><br />Cheryl Lynn Moyer Peele<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-little-blue-shell/
