I wrote this poem for a girlfriend who gave me eggs from the coop in her backyard.
Her Gift Of Eggs
Twelve ovals unexpectedly varied.
One reddish brown and speckled, very large.
Another pale, pale brown, and little but perfectly formed.
Others creamy white, or greenish, or bluish.
The familiar tight-curved egg shapes roll coolly in my palm.
Some of the eggs are coarse to the touch, some are smooth.
All of the eggs are heavy.
I put them in a pretty bowl on the windowsill to enjoy for now.
Tomorrow an omelet.
Columbus, Ohio, 1992
Caption: Her Gift Of Eggs
by Annmarie Throckmorton 2018