Eggs is Eggs?

So, you seemed to like the Cake challenge...

now, inspired by File's apocalyptic vision of breakfast over here - (try clicking on that picture and you'll see what I mean), here's a new one:







write a poem about eggs

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Residents -- by Zephirine

The dapper geese, black-necked, beige-bodied,
at weekends by the park lake bully the toddlers
brought to feed the ducks. Small children,
crowded by beady-eyed birds their own height
jostling, stamping black triangle feet,
tearfully hand over bread, or simply howl.

As the days shorten the geese gather by the canal
placing themselves in one neat row along the bank,
spaced regularly and sitting in symmetry,
quiet, settled, heads facing the flat water,
preening occasionally, ignoring people,
disciplined, knowing their own routine.

At dusk suddenly they sweep through the air
in military formation, a purposeful V
silhouetted above the trees, controlled, powerful.
Though they no longer migrate, still their abrupt cries
convey remembered wildness and waiting distance,
great open places, a calling emptiness.

Dreams and Visions -- by Mimitig

Do you remember
Dreams?
Walking across the sands
Barefoot and happy?
Do you remember
Pain?
Barefoot and sudden
Sharpness?
Do you remember
Blood?
Dripping from your foot
But did it happen?
Or was it a dream?
Do you remember
Swimming in the warm waters?
Do you remember
Weeds catching your feet?
Tangling your legs so you can’t rise and breathe?
Was that a dream?
Do you remember
Tears shed all night
But in the morning
The pillow is dry?
Do you remember
Waking?

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photo by Jeff Offutt