Come Daughter, Enter My Kiln

I have never been satisfied with my own pieces

See how rough and thick the saucers are

I see my script embellishes your jacket
gloves pants cap mask frosted gray hair
and hiking boots.

Be my guest
lay your clay bowls
beside mine
Set cups vases plates
on the soon hot shelf

Yours will be better–come step inside

Slide your fingers along the dry heat walls

Bisque
is formed
of spinning clay

Claim the brash flash
blue glaze earthen cup

It will not crumble
for I remembered
to raise the
temperature slowly.

I bequeath this kiln to you
built brick by brick

by brick hard thick