Little blue egg
In bed of grass and twigs,
Little blue egg lies
With siblings four or five.
To the side of gravel road,
Little blue egg lost
And plucked from home.
From trunk and branches high
Little blue egg painted
In shades of darker sky.
Little blue egg
With freckles and flecks;
Little blue egg
In fingertips nests.
Brood of a blue jay,
Mother not in sight;
Little blue egg—
I take a bite.
*Wesley Dylan Gray is a writer of fiction and poetry. Find him online at www.wesleydylangray.com.