Duckling

It started life

as a moist

speck, afloat

in an ivory

shell. It grew,

feeding on a

miracle of food

within itself.

Eventually, it

was cramped,

wet feathers

and soft bones

impossibly

folded.

It fought

for air and

room to

stretch.

Finally, it

cracked

the shell,

pecking,

pecking,

resting,

pecking

until it lay

panting and

drying under

a protective

wing.

I write

like this.