LANTANA DREAMING OF MUSIC…or…(MOMENTS WORTH RECALLING)

As I was pondering another blog post with yet another decorated pot (Two just emerged from the kiln), I was browsing pictures that I had liked enough to process and save. I stopped on this one and felt myself drifting into it…recalling that day, that moment that captured more than my eye. I came across others as I browsed, moments that never made it to the blog or any other mode of sharing, and decided to honor a few of those. I will also include a shot of each of the pots that I like as photographs…as moments worth recalling.

Weary of trying for decent images of art as art,

I allowed my butterfly pot to alight upon old Chicago bricks.

Long after the Spring’s abundant blooming,

a single Wisteria vine dances en l’air.

My old dog, Music, continues to teach me

to smell, taste, and listen as I step into the muck.

My cat, Pearl, eats, drinks, and is merry…

bef0re stretching out to absorb the light.

The light broke through like magic

as the water rushed the shore.

I place my lizard pot on a stump to photograph,

but my camera prefers the stump to the pot.

After breaking free from her old outgrown skin,

the cicada dries her wings before flight.

Enlightened

I am entranced by a new dance:

A small cat named pearl

has consented to be my teacher.

Last week

I was still grieving for Sunny,

still calling his name each time I opened the door.

On the lookout for what I had lost,

I found myself looking at shelter cats…

looking at every orange cat

intently searching for the one

 who weeks ago had moved on.

Standing in the midst of homeless animals

of every hue,

Sunny’s brilliant orange was obscured

by my tears.

I guess I stopped looking and began to see,

and out of the many

I saw pearl.

Tiny and gray and white

with just a smidgeon of pale orange,

she turned her emerald eyes upon me,

and I was smitten.

In the place where Sunny’s lush tail

plumed out from his large male body,

this diminutive cat has none.

This absence makes my heart grow fonder.

I can live with absence.

Companionship will get me by.