I’m reminded of an egg’s
brief perfection.
What grows within
must crack what contains it.
At seventeen
you squint at farther horizons
bits of childhood still
in your hair, your walk, your laugh.
Behind you
this place we fashioned
each twig bent to nestle you
just so, will ever after be
changed by your flight.
This is a reprint of work originally published in Tending.
Laura Grace Weldon is the author of a poetry collection titled Tending and a handbook of alternative education, Free Range Learning, with a book of essays due out soon. She’s written poetry with nursing home residents, used poetry to teach conflict resolution, employed poetry in memoir writing classes, and painted poems on beehives, although her work appears in more conventional places such as J Journal, Penman Review, Neurology, Verse Daily, Tikkun, Literary Mama, The Christian Science Monitor, Mom Egg Review, Pudding House, and Shot Glass Journal. Connect with her at https://lauragraceweldon.com and @earnestdrollery.
