Blue
Is not a colour
I associate with a crow’s egg.
But there it is
A porcelain blue shell
Cracked just so
It wasn’t me that did it
But the nasty ‘other’ crows
The yolk is bright yellow
And clings to my whiskers
As I leap off the window sill
My whiskers stiffen
And the crow smell lingers
Long after I have licked them clean.
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