Eating a Yellow Feet Egg in My New Egg Cup
Permit me to wax sloppily grateful
on this grey late winter morning,
my heart as glad
as the lone redbird bloom
on the evergreen outside my kitchen window.
I dip my slanted spoon
into yellow richness,
having cracked and peeled away
the top of an egg newly laid
by my sweet little hen.
Those handfuls of sunflower seeds
I offered you as you stood on the roost,
singing,
translated into liquid sun,
and I own more gold than kings.
Under A Hen's Wing 