poetry by j matthew waters

into the potter’s ground

starting the kiln
pottery pieces are well-prepared
for animation
after sitting on shelf
defying limitations

potters’ hands
age-old but consistently steady
creating in solitude
rhythmically firing
on all cylinders

stoking the coals
it’s okay to burn your hands
but not your soul
breathing new life
into ancient designs

cycles come and go
whether you’re dead or alive
but as for the potter
she will always win
no matter the season

november two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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