The spirit of a baby pecker

 Ghost chicken in the yard holy sake
Dawn restless petrified of imminent daybreak
Ghost chicken lays egg thus collected
madame splits egg yoke to be rejected

into the bowl egg white from yoke looms
Yet the yoke is white and lowlight daybreak booms
angry at being held back by the night
the ghost egg barely yellow in sight

and the baby chicken that never was bubbles
the white yoke climbs into the dogmouth treating
the clear gel of the ghost eggwhite awaits a beating
to haunt a new fancy recipe trending

the phantom of a real chicken once alive picking through the grass
a predator on all creepy crawlies squirming a fuss
absent like the darkness now robbed by the light
So clearly reflected in the ghost eggwhite

the spirit of a baby chicken
in the stomach now quickening