The Egg.

by Louis B. Shalako

c2010

All Rights Reserved


One tiny little egg is deposited

Along with a thousand fellows

And it is hidden,

Amongst russet, green, yellow

Many a day must pass

Before the first one cracks

But soon they all must go

Feed they then on grasses

Tender shoots of plants

Some of the young get eaten

And there are those

Before the second dawn are froze

It is a deadly dance

One by one they leave then

Each must follow it’s own uncertain path

One weaves a silken cocoon

And enters chrysalis

He won’t come out too soon—

Until he’s done with this

And so the weeks they pass

The appointed time now comes

The transformation’s done

He crawls out into the light

Out into the warm summer sun

He dries his new-grown wings

And he sees

With golden antennae unfurled

Tasting the currents of the breeze

Becomes aware of the larger world

Now he gives a special call

His mate he hopes to bring

Three days he has, no less and no more

He arises on the wind

Time is short.

It is time to soar.