time turns me with her beak

a ringed reed

a ringed reed nibbled by fish

humility  comes early.  i’m no bird, but an egg.  time is the bird who turns

me with her beak.  she clicks my shell against my sibling shells.  i jerk

within my pallid sheathing membrane, seeing bright and shadow, breathing

the nwyfre.  life is trickled to me from my yolk, which i think is the source.

*

eggs!  o, my fellow eggs!  my siblings all!  let my child-poet’s voice sing

this one song, if it may sing no other!  we see the distant, thin end

of our cosmos, and call it a beginning! our heads bent over our backs

like ducks asleep, we think the darkness under our wings the world!

*

do we imagine we see it all?  this little universe egg’s connection to the unguessed rest

the all’s beginning?  our little big bang the universe? hear the click

of the sibling egg, give credence to the feathered nest, the crag, the cliff,

and let that cliff be in a world, and that world in its many-siblinged egg.

*

and did i bleed?  was being born a wounding?  yes, i bled my evolution

down the long, repeating white crest and dark trough of circle-spinning time.

i am a reed of circled time yielding to the lips of life. i am a ringed reed,

nibbled by fish.  i am a stone thrown into the water. my rings spread out forever.

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