This morning, I wanted a blue-speckled
bird's eggshell to place at the feet of
Our Lady of Flotsam. I had one last year
but it has disappeared --
I very intentionally did not write this
earlier because it seemed too precious.
And I hadn't a clue where I'd find one; the last
was on a walk, beneath a tree,
a serendipitous moment.
So this afternoon, when Paul called out,
There's an eggshell on the patio,
No! It's a snail shell!
Thinking it was the leftover pieces
from Sunday's bird.
T., I know a bird shell from a snail shell!
He was right --
deposited beside scattered seed was a perfect
half-shell, blue & speckled. Not fallen from a tree,
because there is no tree in the yard.
It's as if a bird was doing an exchange:
shell for seed. Or the universe was fulfilling
my request --
Not a miracle, but an answer.