Those are Bullfinch’s eggs
Jane said
pointing at
the 5 eggs

in a nest
hidden in a hedge  
and as she pointed
you imagined

that some god
modelled all female fingers
on that before you
how the nail was set

so perfectly
on the finger’s tip
the colour pinkish white
the skin almost blending in

we mustn’t disturb
she added
or the mother bird
will fly away

and not return
oh right
you said
gazing at the eggs

once her finger
had been removed
from the hedge
you studied

the pale blue eggs
speckled there
and sensed her presence
near your cheek

the lavender
that she wore
the way her hair dark
coming to her shoulders

was tied back
from her face
some collect them
Jane said

and pierce the top
and bottom
and blow through the contents
and have them on display

do they?
you said
seeing the sad expression
she wore

why is that?
you asked
she stood back
from the hedgerow

and looking at you
with her dark eyes
said
because they must have

they have to collect
what is there
for all to see
they must just have

for themselves alone
the May sun
was shining warm
and she took your hand

in hers and walked
you on along the lane
the small stream running
by the lane’s edge

her grey skirt
and white blouse
and white socks
giving her a plain look

but her eyes lit up
and she smiled again
and you wanted
at that moment

as she held your hand
for that hour
to be there forever
not to be lost

thinking you knew then
the depth of love
and not its loss
of that

and feeling sense
and not the cost.