I seat an egg cockleshell
miles from it’s home,
where waves of grass abound
instead of water.

I deposit it lightly
where branch once protracted
from trunk rooted deeply underground.

“It’s a treasure,”
I whisper to my darling sister tree.
“Hold it safe for seeker to find.”

And I’ll return someday,
in hope to behold idle womb
as I confer a new wonder to tarry.