Leave it be,
the alabaster egg,
alluring as morning,
tenuous as rain.
Touch it
and the mother
will never return,
the chick consigned
to abandonment
and death,
she cursed
to a life of regret
and recrimination.
Only leave it be
and the chick
will one day burst
through, moist, dazed,
confused at the world,
uncertain who
to believe, unsure
why he has come,
not at all clear
what’s expected of him.