a bird, a bird with a horned bill 
looks at me through his glossy black globe.
tells me with this look that i am no longer protected,
the world of worry has descended on us both.
we have a million eggs to protect.
spiders hatch and come out of the seams
of my sleep.  “here-” i offer them the rest 
of  my minutes until the sun is due.
i would like to roll back into time
a day before all the eggs hatched
when the bird, the bird with a horned bill 
was waiting to eat each of their legs for breakfast.