The chicken held out these eggs in her flappy little wings as if they were hands and pleaded most imploringly, "Please Mister, take these eggs and do something magnificent with them."
I knelt down to chicken level and I asked, "Are you sure?"
And she said, "Yes, I am certain."
She is an old bird and I knew she had given the eggs her all and I noticed that one egg was a smaller than the other two and I sensed that she sensed that she does not have that many eggs left in her and shortly after that of course, inevitable as the seasons turn will come her unhappy day. I looked into her eye, I could only manage one eye, the other eye is on the opposite side of her head, so I gently cupped the opposite eye with my hand to encourage her to focus and to concentrate and then I looked directly into her uncovered eye and nodded tacitly and in lowered assuring voice affirmed that yes I will do something magnificent with her eggs.
And then I dropped them getting out of the truck. What a mess. Don't tell her I picked up a dozen on the way home, it would break her little chicken heart.
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