A tiny egg. Sign of Spring. Life. Hope springing eternal. Newborn birds. In the nest. Out of the nest. Some in their eggs. Some wailing for worms. Like those at the Odeon Theatre. And some who don’t make it. A tiny broken egg. Bird unformed. Too soon. No hope. No wings. No flight. No feathers. And so, Spring passes it by. No second chances. None for the baby bird, either. Fallen from the bough. Perfect beak. Bulging eyes. Feathered wings. No ...