Sometimes the bowl breaks
and contents roll across the linoleum,
little puddles forming up, chatting,
while larger chunks try to hide themselves
in the pattern.
Husks, eggshells, pericardium—
they’re all reinforced with a healthy dose of grace,
such thin and fragile boundaries established to hold
Becoming and continuance.
The hen remembers when she
opens her wings
and her chicks dive for cover
as the hawk’s shadow undulates
through the open grass.
I remember when I close my eyes,
Find the entire poetry collection This Nurturing Awe: Poems Inspired by the 99 Beautiful Names of God at