She slows her pace, and stops, and looks awhile,
Then enters with a sudden, knowing smile.
She lifts a bowl and weighs it in her hands,
Then weighs it in her heart, and understands.

This thing of clay and glaze and fire depends
Not only on strong hands, but on strong friends.
Not just a steady wheel, but steady goal,
Not only heat, but patience made this bowl.

And then she studies the design, and with her heart
Now open and receptive to all art,
She sees not merely colors, diamonds, leaves,
But song and laughter that the artist weaves

Around the bowl to entertain and please new friends.
She smiles again to think such friendship never ends.

Copyright (2002) by Arnold Cantor.
All rights reserved.

[Completed July 13, 1997. This poem was begun in
West Springfield, Mass at Molly’s pottery booth at
the ACC Craftfair at the Big-E fairgrounds, on June 21.]