Cosmic Egg Walked a Rustic Road
Seeing if the idea has legs.. pun intended… kinda fun imagining myself a Cosmic Egg…
Cosmic Egg walked a rustic road,
pacing her amble, distinctively waddle.
The lonely tarmac, trickle of ditch,
shell pearlized under an overclouded
If she wore pockets, her hands
would be deep. Slow profile of
drivers pretending not to mind.
Mind in the sense of paying
If she had hands. Her appendages
were brackets of proposition.
Hunters entered and left the woods. No
trespassing. Equation an expression of
Rustic was a reclaimed word. In the
sense of ribbon of road. In the sense of
reducing speed, painted barns,
rows of tasseled corn. In the sense of
Cosmic Egg walked the dawning.
She walked the trees and their mothering.
She walked the breath of leaves,
skipping by. What else could she