The artist returns from the winter kiln
Cracked pottery sitting on an old wooden tray.
Each day, another firing
Built log by snow-encrusted log.
Buyers come to the shop looking for bargains,
Hovering over the "seconds bin."
The potter smiles,
Knowing that their fingerprints
Once fired
Will be the glaze for tomorrow's shining vessels.
Cracked pottery sitting on an old wooden tray.
Each day, another firing
Built log by snow-encrusted log.
Buyers come to the shop looking for bargains,
Hovering over the "seconds bin."
The potter smiles,
Knowing that their fingerprints
Once fired
Will be the glaze for tomorrow's shining vessels.
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