byNora Naranjo-Morse
- It is not sophisticated technique or exact skill
Knowing this as my hands work slower than my desire to create,
- but childlike enthusiasm,
timeless concentration
and pure devotion that feed this clay to life for me.
feeling this on frigid winter mornings when clay spirits areLaughing in J. C. Penney's when I notice there is still clay
- cold and so am I.
Dreaming up new shapes and stories for brown
- stubbornly stuck under my fingernails,
as I pass a free manicure display.Indulging in limitless, creative possibilities.
- earth and me, as I secretly call myself
Mud Woman.
How lucky I am to know this clay.
From Mud Woman, Poems from the Clay, University of Arizona Press
© 1992 Nora Naranjo-Morse
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