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.