Freedom and Eggs

Home, thanks to a predicted blizzard that wasn’t, my wife, son, and I enjoyed several episodes of a History Channel’s documentary focusing on America’s birth, and all the birth pangs (blood and war) that accompanied America’s delivery. Then, as I often do, I started writing.


Papa called
as I collected
the eggs.

Clean the guns,
Tobias. Old England’s
gettin’ greedy
and he’s marchin’
for our chickens.

With a blanket
I cuddled as a boy,
I unsullied each lock
and unsoiled each breech.

That day, papa let me
pull a trigger deep.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Embrace the Ick.”


4 thoughts on “Freedom and Eggs

  1. Some of your poems seem to me like they could be in the picture books I looked at in elementary school. You could put some beautiful illustrations with them and have a lovely children’s poetry book.


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