The Robin's Egg

Pale blue robin's egg,
fallen, whole, rare and precious --
Son stomped it to bits.

It's a metaphor
that what's important to me
gets smash'd without thought.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He really didn't know, said he thought it was a piece of Easter candy (we did have malted balls called "robin's eggs"). But I was disappointed on two levels -- I didn't get to enjoy looking at it, and he didn't even hesitate an instant, just stomped it to bits.

It wasn't going to be a robin -- there was no way to put it back into the tree -- but I still mourn the loss of a beautiful item of God's handiwork.

Yet again rethinking the "lets raise a city kid" idea!