Terra Sigillata


An afternoon of planting

in the raised bed

and I started to return

to the house


Stopping to wash

The soil from my hands

In warm rainwater

Gathered in a tub.


I watched the earth

As fine as silt

Slowly drift through

The waters depth


I washed my hands

In the past

Hands covered

In red and grey clay


In that old wood shed

Of the pottery

Cold water kept to make

Terra sigillata.

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