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We met
when she pulled herself up
by long, strong legs
stared inside
over the window sill
sized me up, and
tastefully claimed
a dove-grey raku pot.
She had a scheme in mind
an arrangement -
dried leaves
at the dark bottom
of a smooth, creamy curve -
a nest
I hadn't cleaned
just for her.
She gracefully slips through
a small gap in the glass -
an accomplishment most women admire.
She architecturally connects
the pot and the outside -
a bridge
a firm grip
on both worlds.
copyright 2009
Janice
Gero |
