Spend it like it grows on trees.
Stagger to pay day.
Search for a poem
Clay
Spin it at your chosen speed,
it is yours to manipulate,
to create a form where previously none existed.
Yours to do with as you will.
You grasp it with wet hands
and with controlled pressure,
you fashion it,
and the spinning mass takes shape.
You draw it out -
tall and slender.
You push it flat -
squat and broad.
A bowl?
A cup?
A vase?
From your mind,
through your arms to your hands,
your plans take shape.
More water,
less speed,
a sponge,
a simple wooden tool,
it is yours to control.
From your mind,
through your arms to your hands...
and it all collapses!
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