my hen， stepping from her hidden
nest， in our kitchen garden.
In her clever secret place， her tenth
egg， still warm， had just been dropped.
Not sure of what to do， I picked up
every egg， counting them， then put them
down again. All were mine.
All swept me away and back.
I blinked， I saw： a whole hand
of ripe bananas， nesting.
I blinked， I saw： a basketful
of ripe oranges， nesting.
I blinked， I saw： a trayful
of ripe naseberries， nesting.
I blinked， I saw： an open bagful
of ripe mangoes， nesting.
I blinked， I saw：
a mighty nest full of stars.