What had been there is gone now and lives in my heart

Under a cherry tree

I found a robin’s egg,

broken, but not shattered.

I had been thinking of you,

and was kneeling in the grass

among fallen blossoms

when I saw it: a blue scrap,

a delicate toy, as light

as confetti

It didn’t seem real,

but nature will do such things

from time to time.

I looked inside:

it was glistening, hollow,

a perfect shell

except for the missing crown,

which made it possible

to look inside.

What had been there

is gone now

and lives in my heart

where, periodically,

it opens up its wings,

tearing me apart.

[Phillis Levin {1954- } 'End of April', from The Afterimage]