google image
half of a baby-blue robin's egg
lying on my deck:
small miracle
baby green leaves and blossoms
of yellow, pink and white,
everywhere sprouting:
Spring, dressed like a
pretty lady
Last night I stood on my deck, hoping to see a beloved wolf-face in a cloud passing in front of the moon. He didn't appear. But this morning, stepping out onto the same deck, I found half of a baby-blue robin's egg at my feet. I began to wonder: message from Pup? New life.
Those scrawny little baby birds have to peck their own way out of their shell. I reflected: that is sort of what we humans have to do through the course of our journey. We are born without shells, whole and perfect, acquire our shells and defenses over the course of being hurt by life's experience, then have to become brave enough to peck our way out of them and live as wholly as we started out. As in-the-moment and fully alive as those little baby birds, we finally learn to fly.
