A friend posed the following challenge:
Write a poem about your experience balancing an egg on the equinox…

Wet
heavy
snow

A cocoon
for her
upturned egg

She’d paused
momentarily
considering
balancing it
in a pot
settling the yolk
on the bottom
hardboiled

But snow
on the Vernal Equinox
was enough
to keep it
perched
tip up
tip down

no matter

balanced