Pottery Class

An original poem by Ellis Thompson

I start with the clay,

terra cotta, or gray,

my fingers,

working,

molding,

bolding,

and rolling.

I fire the kiln,

blazing hot,

shooting sparks,

warming up the room.

I apply the glaze,

quick-drying,

cloud pink,

fairy blue,

matador red,

naranja,

maroon,

spring green,

elfin green,

sunburst yellow,

black gloss,

and black satin.

I fire again,

eagerly waiting,

excited,

worrying,

feeling bubbly.

I take pride,

in my piece,

boasting,

bragging,

wondering,

what my next,

accomplishment,

will be.