The Cup That Leans A Little - Rod McIver

[Lawrence Robinson]

The Cup That Leans A Little

The bowl shaped by hands
not the wheel,
allows the clay
to sag, to ripple,
to hold the trace
of touch and fire. 

A potter shapes the bowl
with his own natural
beautiful hands.
And leaves a ridge,
a roughness—
and in that roughness
the bowl remembers
the mountain clay,the river silt,

the smoke of the kiln.

When you hold it,
your fingers feel
the small unevenness
where beauty hid itself.
Where the potter wavered
The cup leans a little.
It is alive —
as the wind is alive.
The moon on still water
is never the same twice.

Rain, the wind
find the flaw
in the roof tile —
and sing.

	- Rod McIver
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.sonic.net/pipermail/poetrylovers/attachments/20260420/9733b9fb/attachment.htm>