Upon Finding An Egg Dropped From A Nest

The other day, I was walking to class and saw two eggs that had somehow dropped from a bird's nest.  They were beautiful, one shattered and one whole.  Anyway, I began waxing poetic and this is what I am working on...

After some good revisions, here is the finished product :)  I'll be reading it tonight at Open Mic at 25 & Main.  I'm also reading "Intestinal" that I will post later.

Frailty

The egg is stark white,

perfectly oval, glowing like a pearl

in the greening grass.

It is frail,

this work of a bird,

a continuation of her life,

hope and promise in the making.

I search for her in the bright sky, the blossoming

trees, but I only hear students

hurrying to class, cars darting in the distance,

an entire world ignorant of her loss.

I look at the egg again, its nest companion

lying nearby, shattered,

life crushed

before it began.

I wonder if the bird will weep,

upon finding an empty nest,

missing the familiar lumps beneath her

breast, the silent incubators of purpose,

mourning when there are no small

gaping mouths to feed,

tongues out, impatiently crying for more.

Soaring now, unfettered from responsibility,

perhaps she will fly further,

savoring the distance, searching for

something to occupy her time,

sitting in the stillness of

an empty nest.

Sorrowing when

there is no one to

gently push

out, no hesitant wings to watch

unfurl, no satisfaction when her

offspring flies away.

Will the emptiness hurt more

when it is not of her own making?

Softly nudging

the egg nearer to the grass at the

base of the tree,

I hope to delay

the inevitable.