The Explorer

I lied when Pops asked, but I’ll admit it now. I did touch the blue egg to see if, somehow, it felt as much like the sky as it looked. The egg: speckled in its twiggy nest, eye level to 8-year-olds, perfect & off-limits like the Baoding balls on Pops’ desk. We tried to find its mom, but the finches scattered when we came near. One twittered the alarm from a maple. Others balanced on wires, flapped wings at us like we were gravity. I can still see how carefully Garrett scooped the egg from the nest, then headed out to find a spot on the March concrete to drop it.I want to see if these things break into pieces or in half like on TV