Inspired by Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt
The ground was dry, it would be some days before rain fell again, perhaps longer. As we walked through the field we saw the small shell, among the debris of the last harvest: was it murder, theft or accident?
You looked at me and said: “Just think, if it was ours, our egg, our unborn child?” I looked again, the pale colour of the thin shell, the fragility of the poor abandoned egg.
Life is so fragile, and yet, it perdures.
Sono una donna libera. Nel mio blog farete un viaggio lungo e profondo nei pensieri della mente del cuore e dell anima.
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Fragile, yet resilient…
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Reblogged this on Sue Vincent's Daily Echo and commented:
First in this week…
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The egg shell had endured the harsh elements of Nature and yet not dissolved. strong.
https://ideasolsi65.blogspot.in/2017/08/faith-unblemished.html
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Lost babies. We find death of infants so hard to accept, even when it’s in the natural order of things. As long as we still weep for dead fledglings there’s hope for humanity.
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Touching!
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