Clay

Margaret V.Doran

How had I not heard
           the clay crying my name
calling me with its sensuous touch?
I have an affinity for the rocks
but clay I had dismissed.
I turned my back and refused
           to listen
Yet when I discovered that clay
           is rock
I looked at it with new curiosity
           and new empathy
I caressed it between my fingers
           I coaxed
           and molded
           and sculpted
and this rock, more than any other
sings to my soul.

Copyright © 1997 Margaret V. Doran. All rights reserved.

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Updated July 1, 1999
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