Dave Bonta's "Ab Ovo" looks at an egg and finds a whole small universe in it. At first the egg seems perfectly still, so calm you could miss that it's alive. The speaker has fun with it, calling it a belly in search of a buddha, a featureless head, a round number. Even its balance on a single point is described as easier than a ballerina's.
Then the poem lets the egg dream. It decides it's a bean, imagines green wings, and pictures the sun as something it might actually reach. The speaker seems fond of this innocent self-image, and the tone stays light and gently comic.
The ending turns on a small surprise. The egg takes the warm center for a heart, but the final question suggests it is something else, a life with other plans. The title, Latin for "from the egg," hints at beginnings. The mood is playful, tender, and quietly wondering, with a little thrill of what is waiting inside.