Click on the orange play tab to hear this poem, or read it for yourself below.



I hold a feast of eggs

In my cupped hands

All shades of cream and brown

Each one is oval,

Yet the feel is round.

Egg is chicken’s praise song

For the day,

For feathered sisterhood,

For space to scratch and lay.

An entire world made new each day

Small enough to hold

Yet swollen with rightness,

Like a seed

Of chicken soul.

Truly, I feed more than body

With this food.


About Alix Moore

Alix Moore is a soul healer, a soul teacher, and a powerful channel for the wisdom and healing of the Archangels. She is passionate about helping lightworkers learn and heal so that they can fully embody their god/dess selves and fulfill their missions to serve and support the evolution of planet. Connect with Alix at
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2 Responses to Egg

  1. Pat Cegan says:

    How nice to receive another of your wonderful poems. It has been awhile. My life is in great change…which seems to be the state of the world. Hope all is well with you. hugs, pat

  2. Alix Moore says:

    Ahhh, yes! My new goal is to be able to continue to post even when in the middle of such changes!
    Angel blessings,

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