I am trying to remember a children’s book with a lovely passage about Eggs. It was a poetic prose passage that was a reflection on the fragility of eggs and the new life they contain. I think it is from the point of view of a mother bird. The capitalization of the E was in there unless I’m remembering incorrectly.
I could swear it was EB White but I couldn’t find it. I checked The Secret Garden, Charlotte’s Web, and Make Way for Ducklings, but I didn’t find it. Can anyone identify it? Thanks very much.