Notes About The Poem
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EGGS-TRAORDINARY MORNING
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The rabbit paused mid-hop—quite stunned~
(A most peculiar sight!)
for scattered ‘cross the dewy grass,
like misplaced stars at night,
were eggs of blue, pink, and yellow,
some striped, some with polka dots
all polished, round, and bright.
She twitched her nose. "Now who," she mused,
“Left dinner out all night?”
One nibble… then a crunch! (Oh dear.)
A rather crunchy bite.
With ears aflop, she sighed, "Well then~
These rocks are not done right."
And so she hopped away, slightly miffed,
to find only one dandelion.
(The moral? Life is strange.
Some breakfasts—purely plastic~
are best admired from far away…
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