The morning had been icy. People spoke of an uncommon cold snap and I imagined a large wedge of ice had broken from a distant glacier and was heading our way. The wind agreed.
I found the egg nestled in a pile of steaming leaf debris. Gathering it to me it felt warm and tender, delicate and fragile and easily broken like a curious promise, like a heartbeat before a heartbeat, like love before love.
As I cradled it shyly my rough and work worn hand felt like the finest of silken cushions resting upon which was every real and imagined wonder of the world. And I marveled that on an icy day I’d been granted the task of gifting such a miracle to you.
(mish 2017)
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
The morning had been icy. People spoke of an uncommon cold snap and I imagined a large wedge of ice had broken from a distant glacier and was heading our way. The wind agreed.
I found the egg nestled in a pile of steaming leaf debris. Gathering it to me it felt warm and tender, delicate and fragile and easily broken like a curious promise, like a heartbeat before a heartbeat, like love before love.
As I cradled it shyly my rough and work worn hand felt like the finest of silken cushions resting upon which was every real and imagined wonder of the world. And I marveled that on an icy day I’d been granted the task of gifting such a miracle to you.
(mish 2017)