'To you insane world
but one reply - I refuse'
      (Tsvetaeva)

Today I found an egg
on South Beach lawn
abandoned at Land's Edge.

The milky white oval opened
it's core door, letting in
the breeze blowing it empty -

the fragile skin strechting
shell expanding expanding - crack
cuts deep connecting with
the inner seasons

clear bright over dark
embrace. It yearned
for being in accordance with tides. 

The egg shells gathered
on Water's Edge. Underneath
my bare feet the world replied.