Untitled

Clay - cold and motionless on the wheel
the Potter can but feel

 

the vase, the bowl, the cup
with His hands - His skill He raises up

 

round & round the wheel spins
this is where the Potter's art begins

 

forms of beauty
and vessels of utility

 

His mind's eye & and hand's skill
forming & shaping cold clay to His will

 

To the kiln to be immortalized
with glazes he disguised

 

The imperfections small
coated in colors all

 

From earth to fire to table
we grow in beauty as we are able