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pottery poetry (short)

updated mon 11 sep 00


laura on sun 10 sep 00


In the shadow time

between sun and moon,

I gather wood to feed my kiln

as the coyotes sing.


When the turkeys dance

to the wild rose song,

the stallions whistle for their mares=20

and I remember one

who whistled for me.

As I finish these, about two dozen wild turkeys forage through the yard, =
passing about twenty yards from my window. Two whitetail does wtih their =
fawns are grazing near the draw, glowing in the early morning sun. IThe =
buzzards came by en masse yesterday afternoon, close to fifty of them in =
the sky. I'm afraid they're getting ready to leave for the winter. I =
will miss them -- such curious birds! They're much more personable than =