- It is not sophisticated technique or exact skill
Knowing this as my hands work slower than my desire to create,
- but childlike enthusiasm,
and pure devotion that feed this clay to life for me.
feeling this on frigid winter mornings when clay spirits are
Laughing 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
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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