"Dunno how much more it's gonna last" as the potter bends the clay down to the last and lovely curve We watched as bullets were packed into the muskets and boots were shined as if they would not fold no cups of cold water in the fields just dreams of that last damp night picking the earth for potatoes and a flower for the maidens making bowls to take back home
Potlatch
ReplyDelete"Dunno how much more it's gonna last"
as the potter bends the clay down
to the last and lovely curve
We watched as bullets were packed
into the muskets and boots were shined
as if they would not fold
no cups of cold water in the fields
just dreams of that last damp night
picking the earth for potatoes
and a flower for the maidens
making bowls to take back home