Oology  Corey Mesler

 

 

My daughter finds a skyblue

fragment, a piece

of new life.

She holds it as if it were her

very own child.

She has the delicate lines of

a bird in flight,

her smile a paroxysm of delight.

I'm going to put this

in my special box, she tells me.

And I sit at my desk,

back sore, inner tremblings barely

held in check, and

I am awash in wonder. Life is

flow, someone said.

I want to tell her

about her own precious cache

of eggs, of their possibility.

Also: Life is flexuous, a sine curve.

A puzzle made of sky.